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THE  EDUCATION 
OF     CHARACTER 


THE    EDUCATION 
OF   CHARACTER 


BV 


REV.    M.    S.    GILLET,    O.P. 


TRANSLATED   BY 

BENJAMIN  GREEN 


WITH    A    PREFACE    BY 

REV.  BERNARD  VAUGHAN,  S.J. 


SANTA    BARBARA.   CALir. 


NEW  YORK 

P.    J.    KENEDY    &    SON 

BARCLAY  STREET 


C.  SCHUT,  S.T.D. 

Censor  Depctatds. 

im^yrimatttr. 

EDM.  CAN.  SURMONT. 

ViCARIDS   GENERALIS. 


WkTMON  ASTEKI  I, 

DU  19  Mmrtii,  1914. 


FOREWORD 

In  a  day  when  there  is  a  growing  tendency  to  leave 
character  to  look  after  itself,  and  to  batten  on  noxious 
foodstuffs  with  little  or  no  building  properties  in 
them,  the  sight  of  a  book  with  the  title  "  L'Education 
du  Caractere  "  is  good  for  sore  eyes.  It  awakens 
the  spirit  of  hope ;  and  the  table  of  contents,  drawn 
out  analytically,  helps  to  establish  that  hope. 

Father  Gillet,  the  distinguished  Dominican,  in  this 
brochure,  has  provided  a  plentiful  supply  of  materials 
for  the  'formation  and  perfection  of  the  Christian 
character.  Here,  ready  to  hand,  will  be  found  all 
those  properties  and  accessories  which  will  help  to 
build  up  character  in  our  rising  generation. 

We  sincerely  hope  that  this  precious  little  work 
done  into  English  may  find  a  ready  market  on  our 
bookstalls,  and  may  make  a  home  for  itself  in  our 
libraries. 

If  it  meet  with  the  success  which   it  deserves. 

Father  Gillet's  mental  offspring,  decked  out  in  its 

English  dress,  promises  to  have  a  long  run,  with 

God's  blessing  on  it. 

BERNARD  VAUGHAN,  S.J, 

Feast  of  the  Japanese  Martyrs, 
February  5, 1914. 


INTRODUCTION 

The  subject  dealt  with  in  this  work  is  no  novelty. 
From  long  ago,  ingenious  psychologists  and  serious 
moralists  have  preached  on  the  formation  of  char- 
acter and  the  training  of  the  Will.  They  have,  in 
some  sort,  prepared  the  ground  for  us,  and  pointed 
out  the  path  to  be  followed.  Yet,  as  we  become 
conversant  with  psychological  and  moral  research 
relative  to  the  education  of  character,  we  are  struck 
by  the  limitedness  of  the  methods  employed.  Psy- 
chologists have  confined  themselves  too  exclusively 
to  the  psycho-physiological  side,  ignoring  the  moral 
aspect  of  the  problem  to  be  solved,  whereas  the 
moralists,  on  the  other  hand,  have  overmuch  dis- 
regarded psychological  sources.  Hence,  it  seems 
necessary  for  us  to  unite  these  two  systems  into 
one  living  synthesis,  to  make  manifest  the  share 
supplied  by  Grace  and  the  Christian  ideal  in  the 
work  of  self-conquest,  without  overlooking  the  fact 
that  Grace  cannot  annihilate  nature,  and  that,  in  our 
co-operation  in  this  work,  due  account  must  be  taken 
of  the  physiological  and  psychological  conditions  of 
moral  activity. 

We  have  assured  ourselves  of  the  utility  of  this 
synthetic  method  for  such  as  shrink  from  starting 
life  blindfold,  and,  in  this  assurance  lies,  indeed,  the 
supreme  reward  of  all  apostolic  endeavour. 

M.  S.  GILLET,  O.P. 


CONTENTS 
PART  I 

THE  WEAL  AND  THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

CHAfTBR  FAC;B 

I.  THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER  -  .  .  .  i 

II.  SOCIAL  ENVIRONMENT  AND  THE   EDUCATION   OF  CHAR- 
ACTER -------         i6 

III.  SELF-KNOWLEDGE  AND  THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER        23 

IV.  THE   IDEAL  AND  THE   EDUCATION   OF  CHARACTER  -        30 

PART    II 

THE  PASSIONS  AND  CHARACTER 

I.   THE   PASSIONS  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN   IDEAL  -  -        49 

II.  THE     TACTICS     OF    THE     WILL     IN     REGARD     TO     THE 

PASSIONS-  ------        62 

III.  CONCERNING  THE    INTELLECT    AND    ITS    RELATION    TO 

THE    PASSIONS    AND    FEELINGS    IN    THE    EDUCATION 

OF  CHARACTER  -  -  -  -  -        78 

IV.  THE   RELATIONS  OF  GRACE  TO  THE   PASSIONS     -  -85 
V.    EGOISM   AND  ALTRUISM    -               -               -                •  -        92 

VI.   SENSUALITY-  -  -  -  -  -  -      IO5 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

PART  III 
ACTION  AND  CHARACTER 

CNAPTRR  PAGB 
I.    HABIT           ----...        121 

11.   THE  LAWS  OF   HABIT        -               -               -  -               "      I3I 

III.  CHARACTER  AND   MORAL  HABITS                -  -               -      I42 

IV.  INTELLECTUAL   HABITS  AND   CHARACTER  -               -      151 
V.  SUPERNATURAL   HABITS  AND  CHARACTER  -               -      162 


THE 

EDUCATION  OF   CHARACTER 
PART  I 

THE  IDEAL   AND   THE  EDUCATION 
OF  CHARACTER 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER 

What  is  character?  In  current  language — and  this 
frequently  most  approximates  to  reality — man  is 
said  to  possess  "  Character  "  when,  true  to  his  con- 
victions, to  these  he  endeavours  with  firmness  and 
perseverance  to  conform  his  conduct. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  man  "without  character"  is 
swayed  by  every  breeze  of  opinion,  and,  practically, 
allows  himself  to  be  governed  by,  instead  of  govern- 
ing, circumstance,  and  moulding  the  same  to  his 
own  ends. 

In  this  wise  is  character  the  seal  of  the  will ;  or, 
more  accurately,  it  is  the  will  that  imparts  to 
Character  its  moral  physiognomy. 

I.  The  Will. 

Character  does  not  exist  without  Will ;  Will  does 
not  exist  without  Character.   But  what,  then,  is  Will  ? 


2  THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

In  the  first  place,  our  care  must  be  to  ascertain 
whether,  as  many  at  the  present  time  affirm,  the 
Will  constitutes  the  actual  essence  of  the  soul 
(understanding  by  the  term  "Will,"  all  manifesta- 
tions of  psychical  activity),  or  whether,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  Will  is  a  distinct  faculty,  and  in  some  sort 
the  soul's  administrator  in  the  direction  of  the 
intellectual  and  sensible  faculties. 

For  the  moment  I  leave  the  solution  of  this  wholly 
speculative  question  in  the  hands  of  the  psycho- 
logical and  metaphysical  experts. 

As  I  treat  of  this  subject  solely  from  the  moral 
standpoint,  I  apprehend  the  Will  to  be  the  highest 
and  most  perfect  form  of  human  activity,  of  self- 
conscious  activity,  as  opposed  to  instinct,  that  is 
unconscious  and  inevitable  activity. 

Will,  in  a  word,  then,  is  the  power  to  act  deliber- 
ately— that  is  to  say,  the  power  of  being  the  master 
of  one's  own  actions.  How  fine  a  phrase :  To  be  the 
master  of  one's  own  actions.  How  eternally  fresh 
it  is,  albeit  that  it  comes  to  us  from  across  the 
ages ! 

One  is  master  of  a  thing  when  one  possesses  it. 
To  be  the  master  of  our  own  actions,  we  must  be  in 
possession  of  them.  We  must  use  them  to  our  own 
ends,  and  cast  them  in  this  or  that  direction,  as  the 
skilled  hand  throws  the  quoit  of  stone  or  metal  at 
some  fixed  object. 

If  then,  by  means  of  the  will,  we  are  given  mastery 
over  our  actions,  and  can  direct  them  as  we  list,  it 
follows  that  at  the  root  of  our  will  is  freedom. 
Freedom  is  the  prerogative  of  the  master ;  it  is  the 
slave  alone  who  is  not  free.     Without  freedom  we 


THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER  S 

should  be  the  slaves  of  our  acts  and  never  the 
controllers. 

Whence,  therefore,  when  analysed,  is  derived  that 
mastery  over  action  in  the  conduct  of  our  daily 
life? 

From  the  kingdom  of  our  intelligence.  The  animal 
is  not  free,  because  it  is  not  intelligent ;  we  are  free 
merely  by  reason  of  our  intelligence.  It  should  be 
evident,  that  I  treat  here  of  the  will,  in  general,  as 
existent  in  however  infinitesimal  a  degree  in  every 
human  subject.  There  remains,  however,  the 
question  as  to  how  far,  in  each  individual  case,  our 
volitional  activity  is  conditioned  by  our  personal 
intelligence,  or  temperament;  by  hereditary  ten- 
dencies or  by  acquired  habits ;  and  in  what  measure, 
consequently,  we  are  free,  and  can  direct  our  own 
lives.  Before  replying  to  this  question,  it  is  ex- 
pedient to  estimate  the  exact  meaning  to  be  attached 
to  the  term  "  Will,"  and  to  consider  the  common 
conditions  of  human  activity. 

I  maintain  then,  that  if,  in  the  elicitation  of  true 
human  acts,  at  the  basis  of  the  will  there  is  liberty, 
in  its  turn,  liberty,  like  a  mighty  river  fertilising  life, 
derives  its  source  from  the  high  peaks  of  intelli- 
gence. 

In  proportion  as  our  actions  are  intelligent,  they 
are  free ;  hence,  intelligence  must  be  our  guide  to 
illumine  our  course.  The  goal  must  be  predeter- 
mined, while  the  choice  is  ours  concerning  the 
means  of  its  attainment.  This  is  what  we  apprehend 
by  the  Will ;  it  is  the  magic  wand,  that,  applied  to 
the  least  actions  of  our  lives,  quickens  and  trans- 
forms these  to  the  full,  exalting  into  the  higher 


4  THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

planes  of  morality  that  which  had  pertained  to  the 
gross  domains  of  matter. 

This  being  so,  it  can  easily  be  seen  how  essential 
a  part  Will  plays  in  the  education  of  character. 

II.  Character. 

Character,  truly,  is  not  a  simple  element,  but 
rather  the  very  complex  aggregate  of  ideas  and  tastes, 
of  deeds,  tendencies,  and  habits,  to  be  disciplined, 
organised,  unified,  in  virtue  of  an  end  to  be  com- 
passed, of  an  ideal  to  be  realised. 

This  aggregate  varies  with  each  individual.  "  The 
parts  of  the  face  are  identical  in  all,  but  in  conse- 
quence of  varying  proportions  it  results  that  each 
individual  presents  a  different  physiognomy ;  in  like 
manner  do  we  all  possess,  mentally,  the  essential 
characteristics  of  human  nature,  but  in  great 
diversity  of  degree  and  relation."* 

We  have,  each  one  of  us,  a  distinct  temperament, 
natural  propensities,  passions,  moods  ;  peculiar  con- 
ditions of  activity  and  mental  habit;  our  special 
measure  of  energy,  and  so  forth.  And,  whenever 
these  opposing  elements,  combined  in  one  individual, 
and  unrestrained,  come  into  conflict,  because  subject 
to  conflicting  laws,  it  will  be  conceived  how  gigantic 
is  the  task  to  be  undertaken,  if  we  would  dominate 
the  whole,  if  we  would  by  reconciling  these  di- 
vergences and  contradictions  produce  a  perfect 
harmony.  Herein  we  recognise  the  WilPs  ordained 
task  in  the  education  of  character,  or  (as  we  may 
describe  it)  the  harmony  of  the  mind. 

*  De  La  Hautiere,  "  Cours  de  Philosophic  appHquee  a  I'Educa- 
ion,"  pp.  3S6,  357. 


THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER  6 

Character,  indeed,  may  be  recognised  by  these 
two  distinctive  and  concordant  signs :  unity  and 
stability. 

"To  have  character,"  says  Kant,  "is  to  possess 
that  power  of  the  will  whereby  the  subject  adheres 
to  certain  practical  and  determined  principles,  which 
his  reason  has  laid  down  for  him."  And  the 
philosopher  continues — "  Albeit  that  these  principles 
may  be  false  and  vicious,  nevertheless  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  will,  generally,  to  act  in  accordance  with 
fixed  principles  (and  not  to  jump  hither  and  thither 
as  do  the  flies)  is  good,  and  so  much  the  more 
worthy  of  admiration  in  that  it  is  rare."  * 

For  us,  at  least,  there  is  guidance  in  the  possession 
of  established  principles  in  all  that  concerns  moral 
training^  if  we  but  hold  by  the  teaching  of  the  Faith. 
Twenty  centuries  of  experience  bear  witness  to  it ; 
it  is  as  brilliant  and  as  strong  as  a  diamond.  Let 
us,  then,  walk  in  the  light  of  this  brilliance,  and  rest 
our  actions  on  its  strength. 

It  will  be  seen  that  every  reflection  here  set  forth 
will  be  in  agreement  with  this  great  and  (as  I  am 
convinced)  incontestable  truth. 

III.  Comparative  Impotence  of  the  Will  in 
THE  Education  of  Character. 

Were  it  needful  to  supply  herewith  a  definition  ot 
the  term  "  Character,"  a  scientific  definition,  and  not 
merely  an  empirical  one,  I  would  say  that  character 
is  the  totality  of  moral  qualities  intelligently  grouped 
around  the  axis  of  the  will. 

This  definition  has,  in  my  opinion,  the  twofold 

"Anthropologic,"  Part  ii.,  chap.  3. 


6    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

advantage  of  showing  the  importance  of  the  will's 
intervention  in  the  education  of  character,  while,  at 
the  same  time,  it  recognises  the  limits  of  such  inter- 
vention. Whereas  it  is  certain  that,  without  the 
will,  the  education  of  character  would  be  a  vain 
thing;  yet  is  it  no  less  certain  that  it  is  a  difficult 
task  wisely  to  surround  the  will  with  a  circle  of 
moral  habits.  And  we  must  not  hope  to  accomplish 
this  save  by  incessant  and  tireless  effort. 

There  are  two  theories  —  generally  accepted, 
although  diametrically  opposed — which,  while  claim- 
ing to  simplify  this  intricate  question  of  the  educa- 
tion of  character,  have  complicated  it  to  a  startling 
degree.  Thus,  we  find  it  asserted  that  the  will  is 
totally  incapable  of  any  kind  of  modifying  action 
whatsoever. 

Theories. — How  frequently  when  the  question  of 
moral  training  and  social  reform  presents  itself,  do  we 
gather  from  quite  well-meaning  worldlings  such  dis- 
couraging remarks  as— "I  cannot  help  my  tempera- 
ment," "  One  cannot  reconstitute  oneself,"  **  It  is  not 
my  fault  if  I  am  as  I  am,"  "  You  must  bear  with  me 
and  take  me  as  you  find  me."  These  observations, 
and  their  like,  drummed  daily  into  our  ears,  and  at 
times  under  the  guise  of  scientific  dicta,  are  proofs 
of  a  fact :  the  readiness  with  which,  in  self-justifica- 
tion, we  grasp  at  any  theory  that  tends  to  excuse 
our  natural  inertia,  and  permits  us  to  become  the 
prey  of  our  passions  instead  of  attempting  to  elevate 
them  or  turn  them  into  new  and  better  ways. 

There  are  not  lacking  in  these  days  philosophers, 
and  men  of  science,  whose  creed  it  is  that  education 
is  radically  powerless  to  modify  appreciably  the 


THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER  7 

racial  temperament  and  characteristics  of  the  in- 
dividual. According  to  these,  "Man  is  born  a  crim- 
inal, or  man  is  born  a  poet;  the  moral  destiny  of 
the  child  is  contained  in  the  maternal  breast,  and 
develops  itself,  foreordained  and  immutable,  through- 
out life  .  .  .  races  descend,  simultaneously,  the  scale 
of  life  and  morality,  and  there  can  be  no  ascent."* 

In  fact,  according  to  the  conception  of  these 
ethical  theorists,  character  is  reducible  to  a  theorem, 
and  becomes  deducible  in  relation  to  external  en- 
vironment as  a  necessary  mathematical  conclusion. 

To  what  function,  then,  is  character  reduced  by 
such  a  system  ?  Obviously,  character  has  no  part 
whatever  therein. 

As  the  waves  break  against  the  rocks  by  the 
seashore,  and  are  powerless  to  dislodge  them,  so 
does  conscious  effort  contend  vainly  against  in- 
herited disposition,  against  physical  temperament, 
against  our  manifold  tendencies,  instincts,  passions, 
all  of  which  combined,  form  a  natural  and  impass- 
able barrier.  It  were  better,  then,  to  lay  down 
one's  oars,  haul  in  the  sails,  and,  with  folded  arms, 
drift  aimlessly:  Let  come  what  may!  .  .  .  How 
depressing  is  this  restricted  conception  of  character, 
and  how  disastrous  is  its  influence  on  the  new 
generations !  It  serves  no  worthier  purpose  than 
to  proclaim  the  impotence  and  futility  of  morality. 
Happily,  against  this  error  there  stands  opposed, 
together  with  the  common  practices  of  humanity  as 
a  whole,  first  the  moral  sense,  then,  the  experience 
of  every  educator  of  youth,  and,  above  all,  the 
personal  experience  of  the  individual. 

*  Guyau,  "  Education  et  Heredite,"  pp.  xiii-xiv. 


8    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Facts. — Now,  to  the  moral  sense  there  is  some- 
thing peculiarly  repellent  in  fatalism,  as  applied  to 
the  education  of  character.  And,  therefore,  once 
having  propounded  and  developed  their  theories, 
with  all  the  serene  assurance  of  infallibility,  it  has 
been  found  that  even  the  most  ardent  exponents  of 
this  doctrine  have  hesitated  and  faltered  before  an 
attempt  to  put  these  into  practice.  After  some  con- 
cessions, ultimately,  they  have  been  driven  to  admit, 
notwithstanding  their  bias  as  men  of  science,  that, 
in  practice,  a  tolerant  sympathy  should  be  extended  to 
those  who  rely  on  the  educative  powers  of  the  will. 

"  Enthusiasm,"  writes  one  of  these,  "  even  when 
pushed  to  fanaticism,  is  a  good  motive  power — 
perhaps  an  indispensable  one ;  .  .  .  hence,  of  those 
who  regard  education,  intellectual  or  moral,  as  the 
panacea,  we  may  say  that  their  undue  expectations 
are  not  without  use ;  and  that  perhaps  it  is  part  of 
the  beneficent  order  of  things,  that  their  confidence 
cannot  be  shaken."* 

Here,  in  a  word,  we  have  a  clear  recognition  that 
the  efforts  of  educators  are,  actually,  not  without 
utility. 

Moreover,  to  affirm  that  the  education  of  character 
is  but  an  Utopian  vision,  and  that  human  nature 
can  only  be  transformed,  in  the  long  run,  and  in  the 
course  of  ages,  by  the  constraint  of  external  forces 
and  existing  conditions  of  life — to  affirm  this,  I 
repeat,  it  should  be  established  that,  as  a  demon- 
strable fact,  all  educators  have  failed  in  their  under- 
taking. 

*  Spencer,  "  De  1' Education  intellectuelle,  morale  et  physique," 
p.  172.    (Alcan,  Paris.) 


THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER  9 

Obviously,  such  a  statement  does  not  merit 
examination.  It  has  been  clearly  realised  how 
instrumental  education  may  be  in  the  amelioration 
of  natural  disposition.  We  may  quote,  for  example, 
the  case  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  the  grandson  of 
Louis  XIV.  "  This  Prince,"  writes  Saint-Simon,  in 
his  memoirs,  "was  by  nature  vicious,  and  in  his 
early  childhood  gave  cause  for  great  anxiety.  He 
was  unfeeling,  and  fiery  in  temper,  to  the  last  excess, 
even  against  inanimate  objects.  He  was  furiously 
impetuous,  incapable  of  bearing  the  least  opposition 
even  of  time,  or  the  elements,  without  bursting  into 
such  rages,  that  it  was  sometimes  feared  he  would 
do  himself  an  injury.  His  obstinacy  was  beyond 
all  bounds,  and  he  was  passionately  addicted  to 
every  kind  of  indulgence.  ..." 

Necessarily,  the  education  of  this  Prince  was  no 
light  task.  Yet  the  Duke  de  Beauvilliers,  seconded 
by  Fenelon,  and  the  Ahb6  de  Fleury,  persisted  with 
patience  and  perseverance  to — we  again  quote  Saint- 
Simon — "correct  so  perverse  a  character;  so  that 
by  God's  mercy  the  task  had  been  accomplished 
by  the  time  the  Prince  had  reached  his  eighteenth 
year.  From  the  abyss,  issued  a  Prince  who  was 
affable,  gentle,  humane,  patient,  modest,  humble, 
and  austere  towards  himself  even  to  excess."* 

The  finest  theories  cannot  prevail  against  such 
facts  as  these.  History  furnishes  us  with  many 
such,  but  were  this  the  unique  instance,  it  would 
thereby  directly  controvert  all  the  arguments  pro- 
pounded by  philosophers  in  regard  to  the  impotence 
and  futihty  of  moral  education. 

*  Saint-Simon,  "Memoires";  Bausset,  "Vie  de  Fenelon." 


10    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

"  A  character  that  has  shown  some  radical  trans- 
formation, were  it  only  for  the  brief  space  of  half  an 
hour,  is  not  an  unalterable  character,  and  the  first 
variation  gives  ground  for  hope  of  its  repetition, 
and  at  increasingly  frequent  intervals."*  But  why 
seek  further  for  examples  from  without?  Let  us 
rather  consider,  within  our  own  experience,  how, 
in  certain  moments  of  enthusiasm,  or  when  im- 
pelled by  the  sight  of  some  heroic  action,  we  our- 
selves have  essayed  to  check  our  evil  propensities, 
if  but  for  the  time  being,  to  correct  our  defects,  and 
discipline  our  passions. 

Now,  what  has  been  done  once  may  be  repeated 
a  second  and  a  third  time.  Inasmuch  as  our  efforts 
are  multiplied  in  this  direction,  so  are  our  difficulties 
diminished,  and  the  day  will  surely  come  when, 
despite  these  mistaken  systems,  we  shall  perforce 
find  ourselves  transformed. 

IV.   Of  the  Alleged  Omnipotence  of  the  Will 
IN  THE  Education  of  Character. 

We  arrive,  therefore,  at  the  conclusion  derived 
from  experience  that  disposition,  so  far  from  being 
impervious  to  influence,  provides,  on  the  contrary, 
a  vast  field  of  action  for  the  Will.  We  have 
vehemently  opposed  those  who  allege  the  radical 
powerlessness  of  the  will  in  the  education  of 
character.  But  we  must  not  run  to  extremes, 
neither  assert,  for  our  part,  that  the  will  is  omnipo- 
tent in  this  work  of  education.  This  second  error 
would,  obviously,  be  graver  than  the  first. 

*  Payot,  "  L'Education  de  la  Volonte,"  17th  ed.,  p.  26.    (Alcan, 
Paris  :  1903.) 


THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER  11 

Theory. — The  many,  who  maintain  that  there  is  no 
kind  of  difficulty  in  training  character,  argue  from 
a  purely  bookish  and  abstract  theory,  that  is  of 
metaphysical  derivation — i.e.^  the  theory  oi  free-will. 
Under  pretext  that  man  is  free,  by  definition^  the 
conclusion  is  drawn  that  all  men  are  so,  actually, 
absolutely,  and  in  the  same  degree.  Now,  if,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  we  are  all  free  in  like  measure,  it 
follows,  since  liberty  is  the  power  we  have  to  shape 
our  lives  as  best  pleases  us,  that  the  choice  is  ours 
to  become,  by  a  mere  creative  fiat,  from  one  day  to 
the  next,  men  of  character,  heroes,  or  saints. 

Here,  as  distinct  as  is  reality  from  the  ideal,  is 
presented  a  striking  example  of  the  vast  distance 
separating  theory,  however  indisputable,  from 
practice. ,  Indubitably,  man  is  free,  by  definition^  and 
herein  consists  his  unlikeness  to  the  animal,  which 
is  not  free. 

It  is  equally  clear,  that  if  each  one  of  my  daily 
actions  is  to  possess  a  human  value  at  all,  I  must  be 
in  a  position  to  exercise  my  freedom  in  their  control 
If,  further,  my  life  in  its  perpetual  development  is 
nought  but  an  entanglement,  wherein  I  am  involved 
from  the  outset,  and  powerless  to  extricate  myself; 
if  all  my  actions,  performed,  as  I  fondly  imagine, 
deliberately^  are,  on  the  contrary,  mechanically 
determined,  and  dependent  one  upon  another — like 
to  the  endless  links  of  a  chain — then,  my  life  were  an 
absurdity,  and  free-will  a  chimera. 

And  so,  we  plunge  anew  into  the  deceptive  theory 
lust  set  forth,  with  its  doctrine  of  the  radical  power- 
lessness  of  the  will  to  modify  inherent  instinct. 

It  is  one  thing  to   exact,  in  the  case  of  every 


1«    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

individual,  a  minimum  of  liberty,  whereby  he  may 
not  be  confounded  with  the  brute,  or  the  machine, 
and  quite  another  thing  to  regard  free-will  in  all 
men  as  the  absolute,  unfettered  in  its  expansion, 
and  able  to  solve  life's  problems  with  disconcert- 
ing ease. 

Experience. — How  far  from  freedom,  in  this  degree, 
are  most  of  us  1  Freedom — that  is,  free-will — is  in 
nowise  a  weapon  bestowed  on  us  at  birth,  and  its 
deft  exercise  at  the  service  of  all  when  occasion 
suggests.  Freedom  is  indeed  a  weapon,  but  one 
that  we,  ourselves,  must  forge  each  in  the  work- 
shop of  our  consciousness ;  and  one,  further,  whose 
peculiar  quality  it  is  to  become  tempered,  and 
hardened,  in  the  contest.  Leave  it  inactive  for  a 
while,  and,  as  soft  iron,  it  is  rendered  pliable  and 
useless  anew.  There  is  no  sheath  made  that  can 
preserve  it  against  rust  and  corrosion.  Let  us 
estimate,  then,  from  personal  experience,  in  what 
measure  we  are,  actually,  free,  when  we  find  our- 
selves confronted  with  this  metaphysical  theory 
that  asserts  it. 

It  should  be  understood  that,  by  freedom,  I  mean 
self-mastery,  and  the  sway  of  moral  ideas  and  lofty 
sentiments  over  mere  animal  instincts.  And,  this 
self-mastery,  which,  in  fact,  is  the  vital  essence  of 
freedom,  must  be  won  solely  at  the  point  of  the 
sword,  and  in  continuous  warfare. 

Every  individual  is  endowed  at  birth  with  a  sum 
of  capacities,  tendencies,  passions,  defects,  all  ot 
which  act  as  a  force  of  inertia — of  passive  resistance 
— impeding  free  activity.  To  ignore  so  palpable 
a  fact,  and  to  endeavour  to  overthrow  this  natural 


THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER  13 

barrier  by  violent  methods,  were  either  to  risk 
destruction  of  the  will  itself,  or  at  least  to  discourage 
the  best-intentioned. 

Having  made  my  appeal  to  reason,  it  is  to  faith 
that  I  now  turn. 

In  the  supernatural  order,  as  in  the  natural  order, 
the  laws  of  heredity  weigh  heavily  upon  our 
shoulders.  As  we  have  inherited  the  ills  of  our 
parents,  so  we  inherit  the  infirmity  of  sin.  All  are 
aware  of  this  malady,  and  have  suffered  by  reason 
of  it.  It  is  named  concupiscence^  and  the  name  has 
become  a  classic  by  force  of  repetition.  It  is  a  fever 
that  consumes  and  dismays  the  stoutest  heart ; 
unless  God's  grace,  supporting  our  personal  effort, 
comes  in  timely  aid,  and  its  fatal  consequences 
are  averted. 

"  Lust  of  the  eyes,  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  pride  of 
life  "...  in  these  energetic  terms  does  St.  John 
denounce  this  moral  plague.  All  have,  more  or  less, 
been  its  victims.  Sinners  as  we  are,  in  our  glance 
there  is  desire,  and  we  no  longer  see  purely.  Beauty 
is  no  attraction  in  itself,  but  solely  in  relation  to  the 
sensual  enjoyment  to  be  anticipated  from  it.  Each 
circumstance  of  our  lives  seems  marked  by  the 
traces  of  sensuality  imprinted  in  us  by  original  sin, 
as  with  those  persons  for  whom  every  object  is 
coloured  alike,  their  vision  having  been  defective 
from  birth,  and  their  colour-sense  impaired. 

The  eyes  are,  so  to  speak,  the  windows  of  the 
soul.  Thence,  it  is  by  means  of  the  eyes,  that  the 
flesh  finds  chiefest  occasion  for  transgression,  and 
for  the  satisfaction  of  a  depraved  craving  for  pleasure. 
Our  senses  are  ever  caught  by  the  snares  of  volup- 


14    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

tuousness.  Our  flesh  resists  the  dictates  of  reason 
and  faith,  when  it  should  most  submit  to  and 
acknowledge  their  reign. 

Reason  and  faith  may  spread  wide  their  wings, 
that  thereby  we  be  carried  nearer  to  the  regions  of 
the  ideal :  it  is  our  flesh  that  resists,  and  like  some 
colossal  weight  impeding  progress,  paralyses  all 
effort.  Reason,  ultimately,  is  darkened  and  obscured 
by  sensuahty ;  its  inner  fire  that  consumes  our  flesh, 
and  courses  through  our  veins,  seems  to  emit  dense 
vapours.  Henceforth,  our  vision  blinded,  we  grope 
in  the  darkness  for  a  guiding  hand. 

These,  in  brief,  are  the  chief  eff'ects  of  that  moral 
fever,  whose  deadly  germs  have  been  deposited  in 
us  by  original  sin. 

Is  it  possible  to  conceive  that,  in  the  name  of  the 
ideal,  towards  which  we  all  aspire,  we  shall,  without 
any  kind  of  struggle,  and  by  some  sort  of  magical 
decree,  succeed  in  circumventing  so  dire  a  reality  ? 
Is  there  a  student  who  has  not  become  painfully 
aware  of  the  lack  of  proportion  between  his  wish  to 
act  rightly,  and  the  weakness  of  his  will  ?  If  there 
be  such  an  one,  he  has  my  compassion,  since  it 
would  show  him  to  be  ignorant  of  life,  and  of  the 
difficulties  which  the  struggle  for  life  holds  ever  in 
reserve. 

I  say  this,  not  with  any  intention  to  discourage,  but 
rather  that  so  our  young  wayfarers  may  be  spared 
the  pains  of  disillusionment.  Inasmuch  as  I  have 
declared  the  education  of  character  to  be  a  possible 
achievement,  it  would  be  a  matter  of  reproach 
against  me,  were  I  to  encourage  the  notion  that  this 
achievement  is  an  easy  one.    At  the  first  rebuff,  I 


THE  WILL  AND  CHARACTER  15 

should  be  charged,  and  with  reason,  with  having 
cruelly  misled  them.  Youth,  invariably,  is  allied  to 
generosity  and  goodwill.  What,  then,  do  difficulties 
signify,  when  these  are  shown  to  be  surmountable  ? 
No  man  is  free,  it  has  been  said,  who  does  not 
deserve  to  be  so.  Therefore,  let  our  youth  prove 
they  merit  their  liberty,  as  soon  as  they  have 
acquired  the  secret  of  its  conquest. 


CHAPTER  II 

SOCIAL  ENVIRONMENT  AND  THE  EDUCATION 
OF  CHARACTER 

If  against  the  normal  intervention  of  the  will  in  the 
education  of  character  there  were  opposed  such 
theories  alone  as  have  been  dealt  with  in  the 
preceding  chapter,  the  evil,  while  still  considerable, 
would  in  no  sense  be  beyond  control.  To  demolish 
these,  the  wisest  method,  if  we  would  convince  the 
upright  mind,  desirous  above  all  things  of  the 
truth,  is  to  lay  bare  the  sophisms  and  subtleties  that 
fallaciously  envelop  them,  for  the  seduction  of  the 
simple  and  pleasure-loving  alike. 

Unhappily,  there  are  certain  conditions  of  modern 
existence  for  which  we  are  in  no  way  responsible, 
that  are  a  permanent  obstacle,  more  alarming  than 
any  theories,  to  the  education  of  character.  Let  us 
consider  the  chief  of  these :  in  this  fashion,  our 
path  will  be  cleared,  and  we  may  proceed  to  attack 
boldly  the  question  in  hand. 

I.  The  Elements  of  Character. 

Character,  as  we  have  seen,  is  recognisable  by 
these  two  distinctive  marks :  unity  and  stability. 
An  individual  may  be  said  to  have  "character," 
when,  by  sheer  force  of  will,  he  has  succeeded  in 
massing  together  his  scattered  energies  as  into  a 

i6 


SOCIAL  ENVIRONMENT  17 

living  sheat,  in  disposing  them  according  to  the  ideal 
imposed  on  him  as  a  man,  and  a  Christian — when, 
in  a  word,  he  has  brought  some  amount  of  order 
and  equilibrium  into  his  daily  life. 

And,  it  will  be  readily  understood,  the  work  of 
dominion  and  self-conquest  is  not  achieved  in  a 
day.  There  is  an  infinite  amount  of  time  required. 
Time,  then,  is  an  essential  factor  in  the  education 
of  character.  The  more  there  is  demanded,  the 
longer  will  endure  this  work  of  moral  persuasion. 
Towards  the  ultimate  end  must  the  vision  be  for 
ever  directed,  without  undue  concern,  for  the 
manifold  realities  with  which  we  are  brought  into 
contact. 

Under  these  conditions — and  these  alone — may 
we  infuse  into  our  lives  this  indispensable  unity 
and  stability  of  purpose. 

Nor  can  it  be  denied  that  modern  manners — by 
which  I  mean  the  existing  mode  of  viewing  life  in 
all  its  aspects — are  such,  that  the  best  intentions 
become  paralysed  thereby,  and  so  are  hindered  from 
complying  with  the  aforesaid  conditions.  In  the 
first  place,  we  do  not  allow  ourselves  the  time  to 
live,  because  we  wish  to  live  too  rapidly ;  further, 
in  our  wild  race  after  happiness,  instead  of  pursuing 
assiduously  the  direct  path  traced  out  by  Providence 
we  blunder  this  way  and  that,  dissipating  our 
forces  feverishly,  in  a  dozen  directions,  and  without 
any  preconceived  plan  whatsoever.  Clearly,  on 
such  lines,  the  education  of  character  is  rendered  an 
impracticable  undertaking. 


18    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

II.  Social  Environment. 

Intellectual  Life. — We  will  now  proceed  to  con- 
sider intellectual  life,  at  the  present  time.  We,  as  a 
whole,  although  in  divers  degrees,  are  consumed 
with  the  thirst  after  knowledge.  Now,  science  is 
an  excellent  thing,  and  as  I  hope  to  emphasise 
later,  it  represents  one  of  the  main  factors  in  moral 
education,  but  much  depends  on  the  method  ot 
application. 

Renan  pointed  out  on  one  occasion,  that  "  Truth 
must  not  be  sought  after  too  ardently,"  and  that — 
"  Indifference  in  this  regard  more  often  insures 
success."* 

Here  Renan  speaks  as  a  dilettante.  To  my  think- 
ing, one  may  possess,  in  the  highest  degree,  a  passion 
for  truth  and  yet  avoid  expending  in  the  pursuit 
of  it  a  too  feverish  and  unbridled  nervous  excite- 
ment which  serves  not  only  to  hinder  the  full 
expansion  of  the  intellect,  but,  as  well,  that  profound 
stirring  of  the  heart,  which  truth  in  its  perception 
should  ever  arouse.  At  the  present  day,  a  student, 
if  he  would  be  respected,  or — what  is  more  essential 
— if  he  would  be  sure  of  his  daily  bread,  must,  at 
twenty  years  of  age,  have  already  accomplished  his 
intellectual  circuit.  He  has  to  do  so,  breathlessly, 
and  at  express  speed.  "  To  the  child,  there  is 
allowed  no  longer  a  period  of  tranquil  development ; 
at  the  first  awakening  of  his  intelligence,  his  memory 
is  overcharged  with  notions  and  facts,  his  brain  is 
forced,  as  flowers  are  forced  in  a  hothouse.    Soon, 

♦  Renan, "  Discours  pour  la  Reception  de  Pasteur  a  I'Academie 
Fran^aise." 


SOCIAL  ENVIRONMENT  19 

an  artificial  curriculum  is  imposed  upon  him,  a 
curriculum  devoid  of  any  sense  of  proportion  or 
reason,  wherein  are  crammed,  pell-mell,  all  the 
sciences,  literature,  history,  languages ;  the  examina- 
tion season  springs  upon  him  with  all  its  anxieties, 
its  expectations,  its  surprises,  its  whole  attendant 
accessories  of  violent  emotion,  and  overwhelming 
effort."* 

What  place  can  the  education  of  character  con- 
ceivably occupy  in  a  life  thus  absorbed,  and  that, 
unhappily,  at  the  critical  age,  when  it  is  most 
expedient  to  lay  sound  foundations?  For,  is  it 
not  obvious  how  this  system  of  life  must  needs 
consume  the  entire  mental  and  physical  activity  of 
the  student,  and  how  lamentable  a  disproportion 
there  results  between  the  too  vigorous  culture  of 
the  mind  and  the  slack  tending  of  the  will  forces  ? 
The  intellectual  atmosphere  we  breathe  is,  as  it 
were,  traversed  by  lightning  and  electric  currents 
blinding  and  confusing  us. 

The  Ethical  Lije. — There  exists  another,  and  equally 
formidable  obstacle  to  the  training  of  character,  and 
it  lies  in  our  conception  of  the  ethical  life.  To  con- 
cede for  a  single  instant  that  the  furbishing  of  our 
minds  represents  the  limit  of  duty,  is  to  be  poorly 
penetrated  by  the  Christian  spirit.  Who  has  not 
observed  that  along  with  the  passion  for  study  go 
other  and  less  worthy  passions,  craving  a  satisfac- 
tion that  study  can  by  no  means  afford?  How  allay 
these  passions,  if  we  may  not  go  so  far  as  to  destroy 

*  Janvier,  " Les  Passions."  (Lethielleux, Paris:  1905.)  Gustave 
Le  Bon,  "Psychologic  de  I'Education,"  chap,  ii.,  pp.  30-49. 
(Flammarion,  Paris :  1906.) 


20    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

them  ?  Experience  has  abundantly  shown  us  that 
the  task  of  appeasing  them  is  supremely  an  interior 
slow,  and  progressive  task,  effected  simultaneously 
by  reflection,  meditation,  and  sustained  effort.  In 
these  days,  this  truth  seems  little  apprehended,  for 
the  axis  itself  of  our  moral  life  would  appear  to 
have  shifted,  revolving  exteriorly,  rather  than 
interiorly. 

Whereas  it  is  at  home,  in  our  inmost  soul,  that 
the  great  conflict  over  passion  must  be  waged,  yet, 
it  is  to  the  outer  life  we  are  devoted,  and  forget  or 
overlook  the  rest.  So,  in  our  brief  moments  of 
leisure,  our  studies  once  concluded,  our  time  is 
given  over  to  the  organising  of  social  functions,  or 
it  may  be  in  work  of  one  kind  or  another,  that  is 
entirely  excellent  in  itself,  and  that,  in  its  multiplicity, 
in  its  absorption  of  our  energies  creates  the  illusion 
that  this  is  life,  and  life  in  its  fullest  sense.  And,  true 
enough,  from  outward  seeming,  the  student  life 
would  appear  to  be  conspicuously  well  filled. 
Nevertheless,  once  the  course  of  study  is  completed, 
and  circumstances,  in  removing  a  youth  from  the 
University  environment  with  its  restricted  liberty, 
land  him  face  to  face  with  himself,  is  there  no  risk 
of  a  reawakening  of  the  passions  slumbering  for  a 
while,  but  hardly  suppressed  ?  I  fear  this  is  so. 
Therefore,  while  fully  appreciating  the  goodwill  of 
the  greater  number,  I  venture  to  urge  upon  all  our 
students  so  to  act  that  their  Christian  life — that 
inward  life  as  opposed  to  the  outward  life — that  life 
where  will  and  entity  become  subordinated  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  Faith,  as  opposed  to  that  other, 
dependent  on  external  works — that  life  derived  from 


SOCIAL  ENVIRONMENT  21 

the  light  of  reflection  that  permeates  it,  rather  than 
one  which  accommodates  itself  to  forgetfulness  and 
neglect — may  be  intense  and  deep,  in  such  measure, 
as  that  scattered  and  collective  life  is  diversified  and 
shallow. 

Material  Life. — Let  me  add  another  word  in  regard 
to  that  which  in  material  life,  at  the  present  time, 
acts  as  a  bar  to  the  education  of  character. 

Any  close  observer,  if  he  but  take  the  trouble, 
will  readily  perceive  a  common  attitude  of  foolish 
irresponsibility,  and  unbridled  craving  after  every 
kind  of  extravagance. 

In  the  first  place,  owing  to  our  marvellous  facili- 
ties for  communication,  we  have  annihilated  distance ; 
and  further,  by  the  ingenious  application  of  scientific 
discovery,  we  have  unravelled  the  secret  of  multi- 
plying sensation,  and  have  so  arrived  at  a  state  of 
super-refinement  in  every  department  of  existence. 
On  all  sides  there  is  set  a  feast  for  the  eyes,  for  the 
hearing,  for  the  senses.  Given  the  means,  we  may, 
in  a  day,  scale  the  entire  gamut  of  pleasure.  The 
torment  of  Tantalus  is  now  but  a  pretty  fable, 
having  lost,  little  by  little,  its  fine  symbolism.  For 
us,  the  tempting  cup  is  offered  perpetually  to  our 
lips,  and  we  may,  according  to  our  appetites  and 
caprices,  assuage  our  thirst.  Are  there,  then,  no 
penalties  incurred  in  this  same  thirst  after  distrac- 
tion, when  indulged  in,  as  it  is  by  us  all  ?  No  man 
can  with  impunity  live  two  lives  :  that  of  the  body, 
and  that  of  the  soul.  Sooner,  or  later,  the  equilibrium 
becomes  disturbed,  and  this  is  so,  invariably,  at  the 
soul's  expense.  However  decisive  may  be  the 
promptings  of  the  will,  these  are  overcome  by  the 


22    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

force  of  inertia  exercised  by  matter,  like  to  the 
tumultuous  waves  of  the  sea,  breaking  upon  the 
sands. 

For  this  reason,  then,  it  has  seemed  to  me  neces- 
sary to  solicit  the  attention  of  our  young  men  to 
this  particular.  For  so  it  is,  that  these  when  drawn 
into  the  social  whirlpool  are  in  danger  of  becoming 
submerged  in  it,  and  thus  are  they  drifted  leewards 
by  the  currents  of  factitious  life,  that  cross  it  con- 
tinuously in  one  or  other  direction — unless,  at  times, 
a  friendly  word  of  counsel  comes  to  arouse  them 
from  their  apathy. 

This  counsel  is  proffered  here  whole-heartedly, 
and  in  the  earnest  hope,  if  they  will  but  give  heed 
to  it,  that  it  may  serve  as  a  source  of  illumination 
and  activity,  and  lead  them  to  the  betterment  and 
uplifting  of  their  daily  lives. 


CHAPTER  III 

SELF-KNOWLEDGE  AND  THE  EDUCATION  OF 
CHARACTER 

The  education  of  character  is  a  work  that  may  be 
likened  to  that  of  the  sculptor.  We,  in  effect,  like 
the  sculptor,  have  to  carve  out  from  the  virgin 
block,  which  is  our  moral  being,  not  by  the  exercise 
of  the  chisel,  but  by  that  of  our  volition,  a  lifelike 
and  active  statue  of  colossal  dimensions. 

To  this  end,  primarily,  we  must  study,  on  broad 
lines  at'  least,  the  nature  of  this  moral  being ;  we 
must  analyse  its  power  of  resistance,  its  degree  of 
plasticity.  It  must  be  noted,  in  a  word,  whether,  as 
some  assert,  there  is  no  scope  for  manipulation,  for 
the  co-operation  of  the  chisel,  or  the  polisher,  or 
whether,  on  the  contrary,  the  thing  presents  herein, 
no  difficulty  whatever. 

That  difficulties  there  are,  is  manifest.  I,  myself, 
have  pointed  out  a  few  special  to  this  age.  Never- 
theless, the  education  of  character  is,  in  no  wise,  a 
chimerical  undertaking.  And,  since  thousands  have 
attempted  and  have  succeeded — history  and  experi- 
ence prove  it — why  should  not  we,  in  like  degree, 
succeed  ? 

We  can,  if  we  will,  modify  considerably  our  natural 
propensities.  Self-education  is  always  the  most 
fruitful  and  enduring  because  of  the  effort  entailed, 

23 


24    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

and  the  stamp  all  such  effort  leaves  upon  the  soul. 
But  most  essential  in  this  labour  of  self-reform  is  it 
for  the  reformer,  in  accordance  with  the  Socratic 
precept,  wholly  to  know  himself,  to  make  no  step 
forward  without  first  having  tested  his  strength, 
estimated  his  resources,  realised  his  weakness,  made 
the  round,  in  short,  of  his  little  world.  Then,  once 
this  task  is  completed,  or  rather — since  it  can  never 
be  complete — concurrently  with  this  task,  must  he 
search  after  the  ideal  to  be  aimed  at,  and  realised. 

And  in  proportion  as  he  draws  nearer  to  that 
ideal,  so,  if  he  would  enhance  the  semblance,  must 
he  pursue  it  unceasingly ;  he  must  ever  be  ready  to 
retouch,  to  repair — if  need  be — to  cut  ruthlessly  into 
the  quivering  flesh. 

I.  External  Solitude. 

To  begin  with,  we  must  have  self-knowledge. 
Whereas,  the  majority  of  us  have  no  knowledge  ol 
self  whatever. 

Self-knowledge  presupposes  a  tendency  to  intro- 
spection, and  solitude,  of  which  young  men,  as  a 
whole,  are  incapable.  By  solitude,  I  do  not  infer 
external  solitude  merely,  or  that  solitude  which 
consists  in  withdrawing  oneself  from  the  world,  in 
living  remote  from  the  society  of  one's  fellows,  shut 
up  in  one's  student  quarters  alone. 

I  do  not  despise  this  kind  of  solitude.  For  ex- 
ternal solitude  is,  as  it  were,  the  court  of  honour  in 
the  castle  of  the  soul,  where  internal  solitude  must 
reign.  But  the  moral  value  of  solitude,  and  its 
effects  on  the  education  of  character,  are  largely 
dependent  on  the  motives  inducing  it.     When  a 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE  25 

young  man  seeks  isolation  out  of  misanthropy,  or 
merely  in  order  to  escape  the  restraints  that  social 
life  entail,  he  not  only  impairs  that  chance  afforded 
for  his  own  moral  strengthening,  but  panders  to  a 
cowardly  instinct.  He  skulks  behind  difficulties, 
when  he  should  face  and  overthrow  them.  Infinitely 
more  praiseworthy  is  that  other  student,  wjio 
although  timid  and  apprehensive,  flings  himself 
boldly  into  the  fray,  foregathers  with  his  comrades, 
getting  his  angles  well  rounded  in  the  process,  and 
ends  by  accommodating  himself  to  the  exigencies  of 
social  existence.  He  is  on  the  high  road  to  develop- 
ing character,  notwithstanding  that  his  heart  may 
be  seared  with  passion. 

Master  of  himself  in  one  essential,  he  is  apt  for 
self-mastery  in  all.  External  solitude  then,  is  not, 
in  itself,  a  means  of  education,  nor  of  moral  dis- 
cipline, and  is  so,  solely  when  its  object  is  to  further 
that  closer  self-knowledge  which  a  withdrawal  from 
outside  distractions  tends  to  promote.  It  is  at 
interior  solitude  we  must  aim.  And  yet,  here  too, 
we  may  easily  find  ourselves  misled. 

II.  Interior  Solitude. 

Interior  solitude  may  exist,  in  a  certain  measure, 
in  conjunction  with  outside  distraction,  whereas  it 
is  wholly  incompatible  with  that  inward  distraction 
that  is  of  the  spirit. 

There  are  students  who,  wellnigh  habitually, 
bide  in  their  own  studies,  and  do  so,  not  in  the 
guise  of  misanthropes,  neither  in  the  desire  to 
escape  in  cowardly  manner  from  the  inseparable 
pitfalls  of  social  life.    Rather,   is  it  not  through 


26    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

devotion  to  learning  ?  Indeed,  I  am  glad  to  believe 
that  a  number  do  actually  embrace  solitude  with 
this  object.  Yet,  alas !  encompassed  though  he 
may  be  by  the  four  walls  of  his  room,  the  student 
does  not,  invariably,  study.  If  we  except  the  few 
truly  intellectual  temperaments  with  whom  study 
amounts  to  a  passion,  and  is  pursued  as  valuable  in 
itself,  we  find  it  is  at  the  examination  season  solely, 
that  the  majority  of  students  are  wont  to  isolate 
themselves  for  the  purposes  of  study,  when  they 
make  frantic  attempts  to  recover  time  previously 
lost,  by  overloading  the  memory  with  notions  and 
facts  barely  heeded  throughout  the  year,  and,  once 
the  degree  or  certificate  is  secured,  instantly  for- 
gotten. 

Certainly,  it  is  not  possible,  in  periods  of  enforced 
isolation  like  these,  for  a  young  man's  mind  to  be 
occupied  with  self-inspection.  When,  then,  shall  it 
be  so  ?  If  the  hours  of  freedom  accorded  in  his 
student  life  be  computed,  it  would  appear  there  is 
time  and  to  spare.  Unhappily,  the  tyranny  of 
inward  distractions  overpowers  him  more  com- 
pletely than  do  actually  those  of  the  outside  world. 
It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  he  is  twenty  years  old, 
this  lad,  and  brimful  of  vitality  and  enthusiasm  ; 
that  life,  for  many  reasons — and  there  are  physio- 
logical ones  on  which  I  need  not  dwell — demands 
expenditure.  And  he  finds  himself  precipitated 
headlong,  from  one  day  to  the  next,  into  town  life 
far  from  the  ken  of  relations,  or  of  official  super- 
vision, without  any  immediate  obligatory  work ; 
indeed,  without  any  defined  work  at  all.  Let  us 
frankly  admit  that  the  temptation  is  severe.    These 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE  27 

hours  of  entire  desolation,   of  utter  idleness  and 
enervation,  are  they  not  bound  to  multiply  ? 

If,  now,  our  subject  takes  refuge  in  solitude  can 
we  suppose  that  it  will  be  to  apply  himself  to  a 
practical,  slow  and  searching  self-analysis;  to  the 
discerning  of  the  good  and  evil  tendencies  pre- 
dominating within  him,  to  the  locating  of  the 
diseased  regions  of  his  moral  being,  which  he 
especially  needs  to  watch  over,  and  to  combat  by 
the  persistent  exercise  of  his  volition  ? 

Reverie. — Would  that  I  could  be  convinced  of  it, 
whereas  I  am  wholly  convinced  of  the  contrary. 
For,  though  I  do  not  see  him,  when  in  his  room,  in 
the  company  of  any  other  person,  yet  he  is  not 
alone  there ;  nor,  to  speak  truly,  is  he  there  himself. 
He  is  transported  in  imagination,  far  hence,  into  the 
realm  of  sentimentality  and  dreams.  And  of  what 
does  he  dream  ?  It  is  easy  to  guess,  and  I  may  be 
dispensed  from  precise  conjecture.  What  does  a 
youth  aged  twenty  dream  about  when,  unoccupied, 
he  imposes  no  curb  upon  his  imagination,  and  the 
impulses  of  his  heart  ? 

So  he  dreams :  that  is  to  say,  he  spends  his  time 
in  the  pursuit  of  chimeras,  in  defiance  of  reality,  in 
living  exteriorly,  instead  of  interiorly. 

Thus,  as  he  should  profit  by  the  hours  of  com- 
parative sohtude  at  his  disposal  for  complete  self- 
analysis  and  introspection — that  he  may  determine 
from  the  moral  standpoint,  whether  he  has  advanced 
or  retrograded  ;  if  his  passions  have  been  lulled,  or 
he  is  their  slave ;  if  he  is  ennobled  by  his  affections, 
or  debased  by  them  ;  if  his  will  withstands  the  on- 
slaught, or  bends  beneath  it — so  he  does  none  of 


ite         THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

these  things.  He  strives  to  compile  his  romance  of 
adventure ;  he  works  at  it  continually ;  it  absorbs 
his  mind.  It  is  the  breath  of  Hfe  to  him,  or  rather, 
it  is  the  instrument  of  death. 

For  how,  indeed,  can  any  young  man,  however 
well  endowed,  if  fostered  on  a  regime  of  intellectual 
and  moral  lawlessness,  escape  its  enfeebling  and 
depraving  effects  ?  Let  us  suppose  that  he  pos- 
sesses, on  leaving  the  University,  some  smattering 
of  philosophy,  of  mathematics,  of  history,  that  he 
can  speak  several  modern  languages  more  or  less 
well,  that  he  can  use  his  scalpel  more  or  less  skil- 
fully, it  is  a  no  less  certain  and  heart-breaking  fact 
that  he  has  for  several  years  skated  along  life's  edge 
rather  than  entered  therein ;  that,  in  self-knowledge 
he  is  totally  lacking,  that,  in  respect  of  the  education 
of  character,  he  has  not  yet  learnt  its  ABC. 

Recollection. — Yet,  it  would  be  a  simple  matter  for 
a  youth  to  acquire  from  the  outset  a  certain  amount 
of  self-perception.  His  moral  uplifting  depends 
on  it.  We  ought  all,  it  is  true,  to  realise  the  goal 
towards  which  we  must  aspire;  but  how  attain 
thereto  if,  from  the  outset,  we  ignore  the  measure  of 
its  remoteness  ?  Clearly,  while  our  gaze  should  be 
continuously  directed  towards  our  destination,  still 
must  we  continuously  revert  to  the  starting-point. 
For  if  our  destination  in  the  journey  of  life  be 
identical  for  us  all,  if  a  common  ideal  be  set  for  us, 
as  men  and  Christians,  conversely,  the  starting-point 
diverges  widely  in  the  case  of  each  individual. 

To  the  one  ideal  we  more  or  less  approximate,  in 
accordance  with  temperament,  inherited  tendency 
our  early  education,  the  social  environment  in  which 


SELF-KNOWLEDGE  29 

we  were  reared — in  our  natural  inclinations,  in  our 
passions,  in  our  innate  or  acquired  habits,  in  the 
strength  or  weakness  of  our  volition. 

Hence,  it  is  necessary  we  should  all  be  enlightened 
on  these  points,  and  that  we  should  wholly  know 
ourselves;  and  this  can  be  brought  about  in  one 
only  way,  by  introspection  and  reflection.  We 
must  enter  into  our  inmost  selves,  into  the  secret 
recesses  of  our  souls. 

Reflection  should  develop  into  a  habit,  an  instinct, 
an  indispensable  need.  It  should  accommodate 
itself  to  our  ordinary  course  of  existence ;  it  should 
be  carried  on  incessantly.  Wherever  we  find  our- 
selves, whatever  may  be  the  act  performed,  it  is  our 
inner  consciousness  that  should  reveal  to  us,  almost 
subconsciously,  the  motives  inspiring  our  conduct. 
When  this  has  been  our  practice  for  some  years 
there  will  assuredly  be  evidence  that  we  are  alter- 
ing, at  any  rate,  to  a  certain  degree.  And,  while 
on  the  surface,  our  life  may  appear  to  be  losing 
something,  thereby,  as  we  shall  squander  less  of 
ourselves  externally,  so  shall  our  life  gain  in  depth 
and  intensity.  There  will  be  produced  in  us,  per- 
chance unconsciously,  that  gradual  crystallisation 
of  our  energies  to  which  I  have  earlier  alluded. 
Healthy  and  sound  habits  of  life  will  follow  in  the 
wake  of  our  disciplined  will ;  and,  thence  will  issue 
that  measure  of  moral  equilibrium,  which,  in  making 
us  masters  of  ourselves,  also  will  make  of  us  men  of 
character. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  IDEAL  AND  THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Character,  as  I  have  said,  is  by  no  means  a  simple 
element  as  might  appear,  considered  superficially. 
It,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  very  complex  sum  of  ideas, 
tendencies,  passions,  sensibilities,  and  habits,  that 
have  to  be  disciplined,  organised,  unified  in  view  of 
an  end  to  be  attained,  of  an  ideal  to  be  realised.  It 
cannot  be  disputed,  then,  that  it  behoves  us,  in- 
dividually, to  survey  the  several  elements  of  which 
our  character  consists,  before  we  may  aspire  to 
bringing  these  into  harmony,  and  so  to  combine, 
and  construct  therewith  a  rampart  that  shall  with- 
stand the  attacks  of  temptation  from  within  and 
without.  There  is  no  general  conceivable,  who 
desirous  of  victory  will  launch  his  troops  into  action 
without  first  having  thoroughly  studied  them. 

How  then  shall  this  self-knowledge  and  analysis 
of  our  moral  energies  further  us  if,  at  the  same  time, 
we  have  failed  to  lay  hold  of  the  ideal  to  which  we 
must  adhere — that  which  is  to  be  our  guiding  light 
as  we  labour  at  the  living  synthesis  of  those  same 
energies.  In  other  words,  self-knowledge,  if  it  be  not 
wholly  sterile,  must  of  necessity  issue  in  self- 
dominion.  And  how  to  be  master  of  oneself,  how 
to  produce  and  develop  character,  in  relation  to  the 
Christian  ideal,  it  will  be  my  object  henceforth  to 
make  manifest. 

30 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER    31 

I.  That  an  Ideal  is  Necessary. 

History  teaches  us  that  a  people  without  ideals 
are  incapable  of  progress.  So  it  is  with  individuals. 
The  moral  quality  of  a  man  depends,  in  large 
degree,  on  the  ideal  that  is  his  controlling  incentive. 

"The  idea  of  the  highest  good,"  writes  a  con- 
temporary philosopher,*  "is,  for  us,  the  means  of 
realising  the  highest  good.  .  .  ."  The  intellect 
finishes  by  orientating  all  things  with  reference  to 
certain  ends.  And,  as  these  ends,  far  from  being  in- 
different, possess  an  ethical  value,  character  appears 
from  this  higher  standpoint  as  a  final  order,  or,  as 
Emerson  describes  it,  "  A  moral  order,"  introduced 
into  the  nature  of  the  individual  by  the  reaction  of 
his  intelligent  volition,  so  that  our  fully  developed 
intelligence,  in  respect  of  moral  and  social  concerns, 
while  permitting  of  the  continuous  evolution  of 
character,  tends  likewise  to  an  ever-increasing 
advance  in  morality  itself.  Socrates  (not  to  cite 
founders  of  creeds)  in  his  life,  as  in  his  death,  con- 
forms with  his  principles,  and  this,  notwithstanding, 
according  to  his  own  testimony,  certain  conflicting 
tendencies  of  temperament.  He,  who  passed  a 
chaste  life,  has  admitted  that  he  was  a  prey  to  the 
onslaughts  of  passion,  and  that  the  physiognomist, 
Zopyrus,  was  justified  in  attributing  to  him  sensual 
proclivities,  although  these  were  kept  in  check  by 
the  force  of  his  will. 

How  consistent,  too,  was  Kant  throughout  his 
life  to  his  principle  of  the  categorical  imperative. 
"  I  slept,"  says  he, "  and  I  dreamed  that  life  is  beauty ; 

*  Fouillee,  "  Le  Caractere  ct  1' Intelligence,"  pp.  749-751. 


82    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

I  awoke,  and  I  perceived  that  it  is  duty."  How 
was  he  awakened  if  not  by  the  action  of  the  idea  ? 
An  Augustine,  also  attracted  by  reason  of  his 
temperament  towards  the  indulgence  of  his  appetites, 
is  no  less  capable  of  evolving  under  the  influence 
of  an  ideal  conceived  and  cherished,  a  type  of 
highest  sanctity. 

So  great,  then,  is  the  influence  of  the  ideal  in  the 
education  of  character,  that  it  may  be  maintained 
without  a  paradox,  that,  in  many  instances,  the 
philosophical  quality  of  such,  or  such  ideal,  is  of 
trifling  import.  Some  there  are  who  may  maintain, 
on  scientific  grounds,  this  ideal  to  be  illusory ;  it  is, 
none  the  less,  an  undeniable  fact,  that  by  its  light 
certain  souls  have  transformed  themselves.  In  the 
ideal,  as  a  moral  influence,  there  is  a  distinct  analogy 
to  certain  scientific  hypotheses,  in  that  these  must 
not,  primarily,  be  estimated  at  their  theoretical 
value,  but  rather  by  their  practical  and  utilitarian 
worth.  I  say  this  by  way  of  confuting  the  objections 
of  certain  pseudo-scientists,  who  renounce  all  con- 
sideration of  the  Christian  ideal,  as  being  in  its  very 
theoretical  nature,  outside  the  scope  of  science,  and 
not  admissible  within  the  narrow  framework  of 
their  a  priori  conceptions. 

Our  care  should  be  to  prove  to  these  that,  to  this 
selfsame  ideal  is  due  the  moral  metamorphosis  of 
mankind,  from  the  day  when  Christ  came  to  reveal 
it  to  the  world.  And  before  this  fact  they  must 
needs  bow  down,  although,  or  rather,  because  they 
are,  at  least  in  their  own  estimation,  men  of  science. 
Before /acts  all  men  must  bow  down. 

Further,  it  would  be  no  difficult  task  to  prove  to 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER    33 

them  if  they  but  bring  to  bear  upon  the  question  an 
open  mind,  that  the  practical  value  of  the  Christian 
ideal  is  itself  in  direct  ratio  to  its  theoretical  value  ; 
that,  scientifically  speaking,  its  existence  is  beyond 
dispute.  Moreover,  without  conceding  its  super- 
natural nature,  how  is  it  possible  to  account  for  its 
marvellous  ascendency  over  mankind  ?  But  of 
what  avail  is  it  to  launch  into  polemics  ?  I  am  not 
making  my  appeal  to  men  of  science,  but  to  be- 
lievers. It  is  enough,  then,  for  me  to  recall  to  these, 
briefly,  what  constitutes  the  Christian  ideal,  so  that 
they  may  devote  all  their  energies  to  actualising 
it  in  themselves,  and  in  endeavouring  to  live  up 
to  it. 

II.  The  Christian  Ideal. 

In  the  first  place,  to  be  a  Christian  one  must  be 
an  upright  man;  and  the  best  means  of  becoming 
an  upright  man,  in  the  truest  sense  of  the  term,  is  to 
live  the  life  of  aChristian;  the  supernatural  ideal  holds 
good,  in  its  entirety,  in  respect  of  both  propositions. 

In  order  to  be  a  Christian,  one  must  first  be  an 
upright  man.     What,  then,  is  an  upright  man  ? 

The  Superman. — Much  has  been  said  of  late  years 
about  the  ethics  of  the  Superman.  The  word  has 
proved  a  fortune  in  itself.  Do  we,  however,  grasp 
quite  clearly,  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  superman," 
as  apprehended  by  Nietzsche,  when  he  invented  it  ? 
Here  it  is :  One  of  the  characteristics  which  most 
clearly  distinguishes  the  morality  of  the  superman 
from  the  morality  of  man,  as  generally  conceived 
to-day,  is,  that  the  latter  appeals  to  all  men  without 
distinction,  whereas  the  former  by  its  very  essence 
remains  the  appanage  of  the  select  few. 

3 


34    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Natural  morality — that  of  man — is  uncompromis- 
ingly democratic,  in  this  sense,  that  it  imposes  the 
same  ideal  of  life  upon  all  men,  be  they  young  or 
old,  rich  or  poor,  learned  or  ignorant.  The  realisa- 
tion of  this  ideal  is,  doubtless,  subject  to  degrees ; 
still,  in  all  essentials,  it  remains  identical  for  all. 
Nietzsche,  on  the  contrary,  believed  in  the  necessary 
inequality  of  men,  even  in  regard  to  their  moral 
code.  The  morality  of  the  superman  is  essentially 
aristocratic.  In  a  society  divided  into  well-defined 
castes,  each  having  its  privileges,  rights,  and  obliga- 
tions, there  is  no  place  for  the  lower  caste,  that  of 
small  and  mediocre  individuals,  whose  natural  voca- 
tion it  is  to  be  a  cog  in  the  great  social  machine. 

The  morality  of  the  superman  is  not  the  morality 
of  small  folk,  of  slaves,  of  the  "  exploited  ones,"  or 
those  at  whose  cost  the  higher  castes  are  maintained. 
It  is  the  morahty  of  the  Masters,  of  the  "  creators  of 
values,"  of  those  who  give  impetus  to  the  whole 
social  organism,  and  who  must  enact  among  men 
on  earth,  the  role  performed  by  God  in  the  universe, 
as  we  Christians  or  philosophers  conceive  it.  It  is 
for  the  Masters,  and  for  them  alone,  that  the  morality 
of  the  superman  has  been  made. 

This  morality  is  not  only  aristocratic,  but  it  is  anti- 
idealistic,  in  that  the  superman  does  not  accept,  as 
we  do,  a  ready-made  ideal,  and  therewith  conform 
to  it ;  he,  on  the  contrary,  creates  his  ideal  for  him- 
self m.  all  freedom  and  independence.  Heedless  of 
good  or  evil,  of  truth  or  of  error,  he  creates  his  own 
morality.* 

*  Lichtenberger,  H.,  "  La  Philosophic  de  Nietzsche,"  pp.  150-199. 
(Alcan,  Paris:  1905.) 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER    35 

I  have  already  pointed  out  that  the  morality  of 
man  as  commonly  understood  is  the  utter  Antipodes 
of  this  aristocratic  morality.  It  is,  moreover,  an 
idealistic  morality,  in  that  it  conforms  to  an  ideal  not 
created  by  man,  but  by  nature,  that  is,  coming  from 
God,  through  nature's  intermediary. 

The  Upright  Man. — In  what  does  this  ideal  con- 
sist ?  Not  assuredly  in  the  making  of  others  a 
pedestal  for  one's  own  self-aggrandisement,  but  in 
indefinitely  rising  superior  to  oneself.  Man's  moral 
universe  is  constituted  within  himself;  it  has  its  own 
laws,  its  splendours  and  its  shadows,  its  storms  and 
its  ensuing  calms,  its  periods  of  sunshine  and  of  rain. 
This  universe  is  not  a  void.  The  light  of  truth 
permeates  it,  yet  is  it  overswept  by  passion.  Can 
passion's  clouds  obscure  the  luminous  way  of  truth, 
or  shall  not,  rather,  truth  dispel  the  clouds  ? 

The  ideal  is  to  establish  in  this  moral  realm  the 
sovereignty  of  truth  and  of  reason  over  the  disorders 
arising  from  that  lower  region.  The  ideal  is  to 
diffuse  with  light  and  warmth  every  nook  and 
cranny  where  cold  and  darkness  reign.  The  ideal 
is  to  make  this  world  attain  to  a  state  of  perfect 
equilibrium.  For  thus,  indeed,  do  we  become  the 
masters,  not  of  others,  not  of  those  who  dwell  with- 
out, but  masters  of  ourselves,  of  all  that  dwells 
within  us,  and  so,  ultimately,  shall  we  produce  men 
of  "  character." 

The  Christian. — Here  is  the  ideal  of  the  upright 
man.  And,  as  I  before  observed,  the  chiefest  means 
of  expressing  the  upright  man,  the  self-mastered,  is 
to  live  the  life  of  a  Christian.  How  so  ?  Because 
it  is  by  the  Christian  ideal  being  superimposed  upon 


36    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

the  human  ideal  that  man  is  enabled  to  conform  to 
this  last  in  fullest  measure.* 

Inasmuch  as  we  have  self-knowledge,  and  are 
aware  of  the  ideal  to  be  fought  for,  are  we  then  ade- 
quately equipped  for  the  realisation  of  the  Christian 
type  ?    It  would  be  a  very  grave  error  to  think  it. 

It  is  one  thing,  when  starting  on  a  voyage,  to  have 
ascertained  one's  right  destination,  and  it  is  quite 
another  thing  to  get  there,  more  especially  when 
obstacles  innumerable  intervene.  The  ancient  philo- 
sophers early  maintained  that  the  ideal  of  man,  of 
the  Sage,  in  attaining  to  self-dominion,  in  the  subjec- 
tion of  his  animal  instincts  to  the  sway  of  intelli- 
gence and  high  aspiration,  consists  in  likeness  to 
the  Divine. 

God,  verily,  is  supreme  intelligence.  Thanks  to 
intelligence,  God  is  master  alike  of  Himself  and  of 
the  universe.  Yet  for  our  guidance  this  Divine  ideal 
so  presented,  appears  to  us  too  much  in  the  abstract, 
whereas  it  is  the  concrete  ideal  that  we  have  need 
of  So  it  is  to  the  marvels  of  Christianity  that  we 
owe  this  concrete  ideal,  expressed  in  flesh  and  blood 
in  the  person  of  Christ,  the  Man-God.  God  so 
made  Himself  Man,  that  mankind  thereby  might 
become  like  unto  God. 

III.  The  Knowledge  of  the  Ideal  and  the 
Education  of  Character. 

Having  extolled  the  Christian  ideal,  it  is  assuredly 
not  my  intention  to  decry  it.     Yet  it  must  be  con- 

*  Vide "  La  Virilite  Chretienne "  (4  mille).  (Desclee,  Lille:  1909.) 
The  whole  of  the  first  portion  of  this  work  is  devoted  to  specify- 
ing the  objective  substance  of  the  Christian  ideal,  in  regard  to 
which,  alone,  the  human  or  natural  aspect  is  here  treated  of. 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER  37 

ceded  that  given  the  moral  elevation  to  which,  as 
bidden,  we  must  climb,  such  an  ideal,  on  first  in- 
spection, looks  somewhat  discouraging.  Now,  the 
blunder  committed  by  many  modern  educators  is  to 
imagine  that  it  suffices  to  hold  up  before  our  youth 
an  ideal,  captivating  to  the  mind,  and  these  will 
forthwith  become  ethically  converted.  It  is  a  false 
principle,  both  in  theory  and  practice. 

Education  and  Instruction. — Long  ago,  Socrates 
had  declared,  for  the  first  time,  before  the  youth  of 
Athens,  his  eager  listeners,  that  the  practice  of 
morality  is  synonymous  with  the  knowledge  of 
morality ;  that  the  Good  once  perceived  is  imposed 
upon  the  will;  that  it  is  enough  to  be  aware  wherein 
lies  the  chief  good  effectually  to  strive  after  it. 

If  wc'are  to  credit  Socrates  and  his  disciple  Plato, 
"All  virtue  is  a  science";*  "The  wicked  man  does 
not  that  which  he  desires,  but  rather  that  which 
seems  good  to  him  ";t  "  Wisdom  can  never  be  sepa- 
rated from  wise  conduct.''^ 

Both  these  philosophers  asserted  that  true  per- 
ception of  the  Good  entails  its  practice,  that  the 
Better  once  conceived  is  our  inevitable  determinator, 
and  that  virtue  is  identical  with  this  necessary 
determination  of  our  will  by  our  intellectual  con- 
ception of  the  Better. 

Leibnitz,  whose  optimism  in  this  regard  is  well 
known,  lays  down  the  same  doctrine. 

In  the  eighteenth  century  we  see  that  the  philo- 
sophers of  the  famous  "  Encyclopedic"  revived,  in  less 

♦  Aristotle,  "  Nicomachean  Ethics,"  Z  13,  1144,  p.  29. 

t  Plato,  "  Protagoras,"  358  c. 

X  Xenophon,  "  Memorabilia,"  III.  9. 


38    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

metaphysical  form,  this  brilliant  but  paradoxical 
doctrine.  They  maintained,  these  rabid  ideologists, 
that  it  is  for  the  law  to  reform  habits  and  not  for 
habit  to  reform  the  law,  that  by  the  mere  curtailing 
or  amphfying  of  a  code  there  will  forthwith  result 
the  moral  metamorphosis  of  a  people. 

Of  these  philosophers  one,*  and  the  most  naive 
among  them,  as  I  imagine,  has  put  the  question : 
Does  the  diversity  existing  among  the  individuals 
of  the  human  race  arise  from  the  difference  of 
the  education  received?  Further,  can  virtue,  like 
philosophy  or  mathematics,  be  taught  ? 

One  would  imagine  that  modern  thought  would 
have  given  slight  heed  to  such  Utopian  ideas. 
Rather,  we  see  the  contrary.  In  our  University 
centres  at  the  present  time,  we  still  find  it  generally 
promulgated  that  the  education  of  character  can  be 
accomplished  by  the  aid  of  manuals,  and  precepts 
learnt  by  heart.  Hardly  are  they  beginning  to 
recognise  their  error  and  to  seek  out  the  best  sub- 
stitute for  the  moral  primer.  Meanwhile,  they  are 
content  to  proclaim  out  loud  with  huge  outpourings 
of  eloquence,  and  in  more  or  less  polished  periods, 
the  incalculable  benefits  of  a  sound  education. 

Experience. — It  is  high  time  things  were  ordered 
better,  and  I,  for  one,  shall  congratulate  myself 
should  I  succeed  in  convincing  even  a  few  amongst 
my  readers  in  this  regard. 

In  the  first  place,  can  it  be  truly  laid  down  that 
whenever  knowledge  of  the  good  comes  to  a  young 
man,  its  adoption  follows  as  a  necessary  conse- 
quence ? 

*  Helv6tius. 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER  39 

I  am  aware  that  the  theory  of  idea-force  has  long 
been  propounded,  and  that  many  have  attempted  to 
show  by  means  of  subtle  argument  that  the  pure 
idea,  if  withal  it  be  of  the  higher  order,  and  that 
which  constitutes  an  ideal,  becomes  by  its  own 
existence  a  cogent,  if  not  omnipotent,  agent  in 
the  education  of  character. 

There  exists,  ethically  regarded,  no  more  per- 
nicious theory.  I  can  clearly  perceive  that  the  idea 
in  itself  may  be  a  light,  but  I  do  not  conceive  of  it  as 
a  force.  The  idea  is  as  a  lighthouse  illuminating  the 
coast,  yet  will  the  storm-tossed  mariner  have  confi- 
dence that  the  mere  sight  of  its  beacon  will  bring 
him  safely  to  shore  ? 

Ever  at  the  mercy  of  the  tempest  are  we,  who 
aspire  to  lead  moral,  and,  above  all,  Christian  lives. 
Ever  prone  are  we  to  be  carried  adrift  by  the 
currents  of  our  passions.  And  shall  we  escape 
scatheless  if  we  but  recollect  the  sublime  ideal 
offered  for  our  adherence  ?  Alas !  if  we  have  not 
within  ourselves  some  power  of  reaction,  if  we  can- 
not battle  with  the  waves,  the  contemplation  of  this 
ideal  will  rather  paralyze  our  energies,  and  cause 
us,  from  lassitude,  to  drop  the  oars  before  we  can 
make  use  of  them  as  means  of  safety. 

If  the  pure  idea,  even  the  idea  of  what  is  good, 
were  actually  an  idea-force,  it  would,  necessarily,  by 
its  radiant  light  communicate  energy  to  our  will 
and  quell  the  unbridled  impulses  of  appetite.  But 
it  is  not  so.  The  idea,  without  doubt,  attracts  us, 
inclines  us  to  the  act  of  willing,  but  it  does  not,  in 
itself,  engender  volition ;  else,  how  account  for  the 
fact  that  the  Christian  ideal  has  had  its  martyrsi 


40    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

and,  simultaneously,  its  dilettanti ;  that  the  former 
have  consented  to  die  for  it,  whereas  the  latter, 
while  admiring  and  exalting  it,  have  refused  even 
to  live  by  it  ? 

The  ideal,  however  elevated,  is  not  only  powerless 
in  itself  to  act  upon  our  will,  but  it  also  can  avail 
nothing  against  the  brutality  of  instinct.  "  Let  us 
compare,  for  example,  the  purely  intellectual  belief 
of  the  provincial  or  middle-class  individual  with  the 
felt  belief  of  a  Carthusian.  This  one,  because  he 
feels  religious  truths,  is  able  wholly  to  immolate  self 
and  to  forgo  all  the  world  prizes,  to  willingly 
embrace  poverty,  mortification,  and  the  most  rigor- 
ous mode  of  life  imaginable.  The  bourgeois^  whose 
belief  is  of  the  intellect,  hears  Mass,  it  is  true,  but 
does  not  recoil  from  the  most  hideous  manifestations 
of  egotism.  He  exploits  unmercifully  some  wretched 
servant,  whom  he  perpetually  underfeeds  and  over- 
works."* 

An  ideal  man  must  have :  there  is  no  difficulty  as 
to  that.  But  how  must  this  ideal  be  conditioned  in 
order  effectually  to  influence  the  education  of  our 
character :  here  is  the  thing  to  be  taken  account  of 
No — I  repeat  it — an  ideal  has  no  power  in  itself  to 
modify  conduct,  so  long  as  we  rest  content  merely 
to  contemplate  it. 

It  is  St.  Paul,  I  believe,  who  makes  that  terrific 
assertion  that  if  God  had  not  revealed  His  Law  unto 
the  world,  men  had  not  sinned  !t 

The  knowledge  pure  and  simple  of  the  Divine 
Law,  so  far  from  giving  life,  has  begotten  death. 

*  Payot,  "  I'Education  de  la  Volonte,"  p.  41. 
t  C/.  Rom.  V.  13-20  (Trans.). 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER    41 

Are  we  ourselves — I  appeal  to  common  every- 
day experience — always  ready  to  do  the  thing  we 
perceive  to  be  good  ?  Do  we  throughout  keep  the 
resolutions  we  have  made,  solely  because  we  have 
made  them  ? 

Is  there  one  amongst  us,  who  at  the  very  moment 
when  his  reason  and  his  faith  spreading  wide  their 
wings  have  urged  him  upwards  towards  the  summits 
of  the  Ideal — is  there  one  who  has  not  found  his 
lofty  impulses  rudely  checked,  and  he,  himself, 
perhaps  dragged  downwards  into  the  abyss  of  evil, 
and  of  sin,  by  the  mere  weight  of  his  animal  self? 
We  are  not  intelligence  alone;  we  are,  as  well, 
made  up  of  matter.  And,  in  so  far  as  we  have  not 
yet  arrived  at  dominion  over  our  material  selves; 
in  so  far  as  we  have  not  yet  succeeded  by  sustained 
effort,  daily  renewed,  in  impregnating  matter  with 
the  essence  of  the  ideal,  that  our  faith  propounds 
and  imposes  upon  us,  in  moulding  and  habitua- 
ting matter  to  its  requirements,  so  we  shall  have 
done  little  or  nothing  towards  the  education  ol 
character. 

God  does  not  demand  of  us,  merely,  that  we  shall 
burn  incense  before  the  altar  of  the  Ideal.  What  He 
demands  is,  that  we  shall  immolate  ourselves  at  its 
shrine,  that  the  Ideal  shall  be  incarnate  in  us,  and, 
so  assimilated  by  us,  that  we  shall  in  pure  gaiety  of 
heart,  sacrifice  thereto  all  that  which  might  tarnish 
its  radiance.  And  for  this  it  is  not  enough  to  be 
conscious  of  it;  one  must,  imperatively,  be  enamoured 
of  it.  To  be  so,  in  the  truly  practical  and  not  the 
platonic  sense,  is,  in  the  active  order,  the  primary 
essential  in  the  education  of  character. 


42    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Idea-Light  and  Idea-Force. — The  most  elevated 
ideal,  if  we  are  content  with  its  bare  contemplation, 
has  no  power  to  further  the  reform  of  conduct,  or  the 
building-up  of  character.  None  the  less  is  an  ideal 
incumbent  upon  the  individual,  who  would  endeavour 
to  put  his  moral  life  in  order,  to  establish  a  hierarchy 
of  his  passions  and  predilections,  to  affirm  the 
domination  of  his  will  over  his  senses.  It  is  common 
experience.  How,  then,  resolve  the  problem  ? 
Theoretically,  its  solution  presents  no  difficulty ; 
practically,  as  I  shall  show  later,  it  has  quite  another 
aspect.  For  the  present  I  will  confine  myself  to  the 
theoretical  point  of  view;  and  will  endeavour  to 
estimate,  generally,  the  conditions,  whereby  it  is 
possible  to  ensure  the  sovereignty  of  the  ideal  in 
the  education  of  character. 

Idealists  and  Materialists. — It  is  with  education  as 
with  instruction,  as  soon  as  reform  is  hinted  at,  so 
persons  are  found  ready  to  rush  from  one  extremity 
to  the  other.  Under  pretext,  for  instance,  that  the 
perception  of  an  ideal  does  not  necessarily  involve 
submission  to  its  influence,  there  are  found  many 
educators  who,  thence,  refuse  altogether  to  take 
notice  of  it.  And  this  is  their  mode  of  reasoning : 
We  have  at  our  disposal  but  two  means  of  ethical 
training:  the  mind  and  the  body;  intellectual  and 
physical  exercises.  Given  the  inefficacy  of  the  first, 
we  have  to  fall  back  on  the  second.  Hence,  the 
ever-increasing  importance  accorded  in  the  Uni- 
versity curriculum  to  physical  exercises,  and  to 
sports  of  every  description. 

Doubtless,  there  is  some  value  in  their  conclusions. 
I,  for  my  part,  fully  agree  that  the  body  ought  to  be 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER     43 

given  its  share,  and  a  considerable  share,  in  ethical 
reform.  We  shall  see  later  the  reason  for  this. 
Meanwhile,  I  may  be  permitted  to  observe  that 
corporal  gymnastics,  however  prudently  regulated, 
cannot,  unaided,  solve  the  very  complex  problem  of 
ethical  education. 

"One  can  build  up  a  Herculean  race  by  means 
of  sound  gymnastic  exercises,  but  it  is  impossible  to 
discern  in  what  way  such  exercises  can  materially 
develop  the  qualities  that  need  to  be  fostered  by 
education — initiative,  perseverance,  judgment,  self- 
mastery,  will-power,  etc."* 

Between  idealists  on  the  one  side,  and  materialists 
on  the  other;  between  those  who  hold  paramount 
the  teaching  of  ethics  by  means  of  books,  and  those 
who  place  their  confidence  solely  in  sports,  can  a 
middle  course  be  steered  ? 

I  believe  so,  and  I  hope  to  prove  it.  To  develop 
character  we  must  be  strengthened  and  enlightened 
at  one  and  the  same  time ;  we  first  must  be  aware  of 
the  direction  towards  which  our  energies  ought  to 
converge,  and  then  be  enabled  to  effect  this  conver- 
gence. That  the  ideal,  in  itself,  enlightens  us  is  not 
disputed.  Every  idea  is  a  light ;  but  is  it  not  possi- 
ble to  transform  the  idea-light  into  an  idea-force  ?t 

*  GustaveLe  Bon,  "  Psychologic  de  I'Education,"  Part  I,  (II  ?), 
chap,  vi.,  p.  165. 

t  I  have  pointed  out  elsewhere  that  every  idea  and  sensation 
tends  to  become  actualised  in  the  corresponding  act,  whenever 
no  obstacle  intervenes.  This  is  not  a  contradiction  of  the  present 
assertion,  but  rather  its  completion.  For,  if  the  idea  engenders 
the  act,  it  is  the  natural  appetite  (voluntary  or  sensitive),  awakened 
and  energised  by  its  representation,  that  is  the  channel  of  trans- 
mission, and  not  the  representation  itself.  {Vide  "  Devoir  et 
Conscience,"  Parts  II.  and  III.) 


44    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Idea-Force. — Theoretically,  there  is  nothing  more 
simple ;  it  suffices  to  desire  it,  or  in  other  words  to 
love  it.  Our  strength  lies  finally  in  our  will.  Let 
us  presume,  then,  that  once  illumined  by  the 
Christian  ideal,  we  are  no  longer  content  merely  to 
contemplate  it,  but  bring  to  bear  upon  it  all  the 
impetus  of  our  will  to  the  point  of  assimilating  it,  of 
living  in  it,  of  permeating  with  it  our  moral  organism. 
So,  in  these  conditions,  may  we  not  believe  that  this 
ideal,  without  ceasing  to  be  a  light  unto  us,  will 
simultaneously  become  a  force  ? 

The  idea-force,  then,  is  not  only  the  idea  perceived^ 
as  some  psychologists  mistakenly  declare,  but  the 
idea  willed.  It  is  the  desired,  the  cherished  ideals, 
that  supply  in  the  aggregate  the  inspiration  and 
support  of  all  sustained  activity  in  a  given  direction. 
Let  us  consider  the  sun.  It  plays,  in  nature,  the 
r6le  allotted  to  the  idea-force  in  the  education  of 
character.  Its  light  illumines  all  things,  while,  at 
the  same  time,  its  heat  gives  them  life.  Deprived 
of  the  light  of  the  sun,  nature  would  remain  en- 
veloped in  the  grim  pall  of  darkness. 

But  let  us  suppose  that,  although  illumined  by  the 
sun,  and  mantled  in  some  sort  by  its  rays,  nature 
should  derive  no  heat  therefrom.  Thence,  would 
speedily  follow  death — that  is,  a  perpetual  winter. 
All  energy  nurtured  within  its  bosom,  and  seeking 
expansion,  would  rapidly  suffer  exhaustion  and 
ultimate  extinction. 

And  this  applies,  with  due  reservations,  to  the 
Christian  ideal  in  relation  to  our  moral  nature.  If 
this  ideal  be  permitted  to  project  its  chill  rays  even 
into  our  innermost  recesses,  while  withholding  there- 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER  45 

from  the  warmth  of  its  beams,  there  may  be  revealed 
to  us  the  state  of  our  soul — still  shall  we  be  left 
powerless  to  remedy  it.  We  are  not  put  into  the 
world  merely  that  we  may  be  guided  to  self-know- 
ledge by  the  light  of  the  Christian  ideal,  but  so  that 
we  may  live  according  to  that  ideal,  and  that  by  its 
fire  our  actions  may  be  enkindled.  And,  seeing  that 
the  only  means  of  transforming  its  light  into  heat  is 
to  desire  it,  and  to  love  it,  we  must,  with  all  the 
force  of  our  emotions,  desire,  love,  embrace  it,  that 
it  may  not  escape  us. 

Christian  Experience. — All  this  is,  I  admit,  very 
pretty  in  theory,  but,  in  practice,  how  are  we  to  bring 
about  the  descent  of  the  Christian  ideal  from  the 
serene  elevation  of  the  intelligence  to  the  pulsating 
region  of  the  heart  ? 

As  to  this  there  must  be  no  false  illusions,  nor 
must  we  regard  the  achievement  as  easy.  It  is  far 
from  being  so. 

We  should  recall  what  happened  on  the  very 
morrow  of  the  Creation.  The  fall  of  our  first  parents 
is  a  fact  dominating  the  entire  history  of  humanity, 
and  so  mournful  is  its  echo  in  our  consciousness 
that  we  are  driven  to  seek  its  analysis  and  to  draw 
therefrom  a  practical  lesson.* 

The  Faith  teaches  us  that  Adam  and  Eve  were  so 
created  in  a  state  of  moral  equilibrium,  that  their 

*  Christian  experience  based  on  the  fact  of  the  Fall  merely 
accentuates  natural  experience.  For  this  reason,  I  dwell  upon  it 
here.  Naturally,  with  a  moral  organism,  where  spirit  has  to  over- 
come flesh,  there  is  entailed  the  incessant  intervention  of  the  will 
in  the  control  of  the  senses.  The  light  of  the  ideal  does  not 
suffice  for  their  spiritualisation,  and  volitional  forces  must  neces- 
sarily be  requisitioned  for  man  and  Christian  alike. 


46    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

volition,  enlightened  by  their  intelligence,  experi- 
enced no'  kind  of  difficulty  in  keeping  their  flesh 
in  subjection.  Issuing  unscathed  from  the  hands 
of  their  Maker,  they  were  immune  from  the  laws  of 
heredity,  and  the  dangers  of  evil  suggestion.  With 
their  gaze  riveted  upon  the  Christian  ideal,  and 
their  souls  still  expanding  with  the  creative  Breath, 
it  would  appear  they  had,  by  the  help  of  their  wings, 
only  to  soar  above  the  miseries  we  sink  under  to- 
day, and  inhale  the  life-giving  air  of  the  Divine 
spheres.  This,  at  any  rate,  would  happen,  we 
imagine,  were  we  in  their  place.  Ah,  how  ill  we 
comprehend  the  complexity  of  human  nature !  The 
history  of  the  first  Fall  is  with  us  henceforward  to 
make  manifest  that  man,  however  closely  he  pursues 
his  ideal,  however  nearly  he  approaches  to  it,  can 
never  be  wholly  secure  against  backsliding.  What, 
then,  shall  be  said  of  the  feeble,  the  pusillanimous, 
the  craven  ? 

We  must  always  remember  that,  side  by  side 
with  the  knowledge  of  good,  there  is  set  the  know- 
ledge of  evil ;  alongside  the  sky  there  is  the  earth. 
If,  in  our  hearts,  we  aspire  upwards  to  the  heights, 
by  the  weight  of  our  bodies  are  we  dragged  down- 
wards into  the  depths.  Seen  too  remotely,  the  earth 
hides  its  harshness  from  our  eyes;  wafts  unto  us 
the  subtle  perfume  of  its  flowers,  and  conceals  from 
us  their  thorns.  Lured  by  the  false  glamour  of  evil, 
we  are  intoxicated,  dazed,  vacillating,  we  lose  our 
balance;  with  fluttering  wings  we  cleave  the  air,  and 
descend  headlong  down  into  some  obscure  corner. 

This,  in  brief,  is  the  actual  history  of  the  original 
Fall.     We  must  not  forget  that  we  have  inherited 


IDEAL  AND  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER  47 

the  dread  consequences  of  the  Fall.  By  reason  of  it, 
our  will,  the  crux  of  our  spiritual  organism,  has  lost 
its  natural  power.  The  mainspring  is  not  broken, 
but  it  is  bent,  and  it  is  a  difficult  task  to  repair 
this  spring,  to  restore  its  original  tensity — the  tensity 
of  steel — so  that  the  disturbed  equilibrium  may  be 
re-established  in  us,  and  so  that,  ultimately,  the  ideal 
may  obtain  sway  over  our  retrograde  instincts. 

Truly,  grace  is  with  us  always.  Yet,  grace  is 
unavailing  without  our  personal  co-operation.  We 
must,  while  given  grace,  act  as  though  we  had  it 
not,  and  so  shall  we  most  reap  its  benefits.  How, 
then,  must  we  act  ?  An  ideal  of  itself  is  wholly 
futile.  Its  light  may  be  shed  upon  our  will,  but 
there  is  no  heat  in  it.  It  is,  then,  our  will  that  must 
communicate  its  own  heat,  by  fastening  upon  it,  by 
adhering  to  it  with  all  imaginable  fervour.  Now, 
our  will,  on  the  one  hand,  is  enfeebled  and  ener- 
vated ;  while  our  sensible  powers,  profiting  thereby, 
tend  to  wrench  asunder  their  bonds,  and  scatter 
their  forces,  to  the  impairing  of  that  complete  ideal, 
the  fulfilment  of  which  is  incumbent  upon  our  super- 
natural activities. 

Who  shall  find  a  remedy  for  this  interior  anarchy? 
Who  shall  re-establish  the  shattered  equilibrium  ? 
Here  we  are  confronted  with  the  most  delicate  part 
of  our  analysis.  It  is  not  my  purpose,  for  the 
present,  to  offer  a  definite  solution,  but  I  venture  to 
proffer  a  glimpse  of  it. 

The  remedy  lies  nearer  home  than  we  should 
suppose.  I  find  it  in  the  very  heart  of  the  trouble. 
We  observe  that  our  volition  is  a  sentimental 
element.     Our  will  asks  no  better  than  to  obey,  but 


48    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

has  no  fancy  for  cold,  reasoned  decrees.  These 
must  be  tempered  with  emotion,  coloured  with 
passion's  impelling  force.  The  impetus  must  come, 
therefore,  from  the  seat  of  our  passions  themselves. 
Set  between  the  ideal,  and  irradiated  with  its  light, 
and  the  passions  whence  it  derives  a  portion  of  its 
impulses,  the  will's  function  consists  in  welding 
these  dissimilar  elements,  in  linking  them  one  to 
another,  in  transforming  the  idea-light  into  the  idea- 
force  ;  in  marshalling  in  array  all  that  is  emotional, 
sentimental,  and  impassioned  in  our  moral  being. 

"  Strong  feeling,"  writes  J.  Stuart  Mill,  "  is  the 
instrument  and  element  of  strong  self-control,  but 
it  requires  to  be  cultivated  in  that  direction.  When 
it  is,  it  forms  not  the  heroes  of  impulse  only,  but 
those  also  of  self-conquest.  History  and  experience 
prove  that  the  most  passionate  characters  are  the 
most  rigid  in  their  feelings  of  duty,  when  their 
passion  has  been  trained  to  act  in  that  direction."* 

♦  Stuart  Mill,  '*  Assujettissement  des  Femmes,"  p.  150,  etc.  ; 
Ribot,  "  Maladies  de  la  Volonte,"  p.  117.    (Alcan,  Paris  :  1897.) 


PART  II 

THE  PASSIONS  AND  CHARACTER 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  PASSIONS  AND  THE  CHRISTIAN  IDEAL 

It  may  possibly  be  of  some  advantage,  in  embarking 
upon  the  second  and  more  important  section  of  this 
work,  to  make  a  survey  of  the  precise  boundaries 
limiting,  provisionally,  the  intricate  problem  of  the 
education  of  character. 

On  the  one  side,  we  are  in  possession  of  an  ideal 
to  be  attained.  But  this  ideal  confines  itself  after 
the  manner  of  a  powerful  reflector  to  pointing  out 
the  way  by  the  casting  of  its  beams  upon  our  path. 
On  the  other  side,  there  exist  in  the  dark  and 
turbulent  region  of  the  senses  conflicting  and 
violent  forces,  which,  unquelled,  would  drive  us 
into  a  hundred  random  channels. 

If  the  ideal,  as  conceived  by  us,  were  able  to  over- 
throw the  disturbing  elements,  to  bring  them  by  its 
influence  under  control,  then  the  problem  of  the 
education  of  character  were  speedily  solved.  But 
experience  shows  us  that  the  idea  of  itself,  even 
the  Christian  Idea,  is  robbed  of  its  efficacy  when 
confronted  with  the  brutality  of  instinct. 
Here  it  is  incumbent  upon  the  will  to  intervene  ; 

49  4 


50    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

for,  undeniably,  it  is  our  will  that  is  designed  to 
actualise  in  us  the  Christian  ideal. 

And  how  is  this  to  be  done?  Alienated  at  birth 
from  this  ideal  by  the  consequences  of  original  sin, 
our  common  heritage,  our  will,  at  the  outset,  neither 
is  drawn  to  it  nor  has  affection  for  it.  In  order  to 
adhere  to  it,  to  desire  it,  and  to  love  it,  there  is 
needed  the  Divine  aid  of  grace.  But  grace  alone  is 
insufficient,  and  each  of  us,  individually,  has  to  help. 
Restored  by  baptism,  we  yet  remain  infirm  for  a 
while,  and  our  enfeebled  powers  can  be  strengthened 
solely  by  the  recuperative  force  of  action.  Now, 
what  kind  of  action  is  capable  of  arousing  the  will 
from  its  lethargic  state,  of  imparting  vigour  to  its 
impulses,  of  intensifying  its  affection  for  the  ideal, 
ever  solicitous  of  it  ? 

The  action  of  the  ideal,  perhaps?  But  we  have 
seen  that  the  ideal  has  no  more  power  over  volition, 
to  compel  it  to  will,  than  over  the  brute  part  of  our 
nature. 

So,  then,  are  we  lured  into  a  road  without  a 
turning,  and  do  we  find  the  education  of  character 
to  be  a  decoy?  Not  so,  for  the  way  out  actually 
confronts  us. 

Our  will,  let  me  insist  anew,  is  an  emotional 
power.  Love  is  its  basis,  and  love  incites  love.  In 
the  place  of  clear  but  chill  commands,  the  will 
should  be  assailed  with  emphatic  passion-inflamed 
behests,  and  its  heart-whole  submission  will  inevit- 
ably follow.  Is  it  not  possible  to  link  strong  passions 
to  the  Christian  ideal,  to  urge  the  will  to  more 
effective  action  by  the  influence  of  generous 
emotions?    Surely  the  means  exist,  and  the  will 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  CHRISTIAN  IDEAL    51 

itself  has  the  power  to  actualise  them.  It  is  merely 
a  question  of  tactics,  or  what  Aristotle  describes  as 
the  "Art  of  philosophising"  with  the  passions. 
Before  I  proceed  to  dissect  this  art,  it  seems  advis- 
able to  say  a  word  or  two  concerning  the  nature  of 
passion. 

I.  The  Passions. 

Practically  regarded,  the  passions  are  the  pleasur- 
able or  displeasing  emotions,  arising  from  the  sen- 
sible region  of  the  soul.  When  we  speak  of  the  fire 
of  passion,  we  are  referring  to  a  violent  state  of  the 
emotions.  Very  little  suffices,  at  times,  to  kindle  this 
fire — a  chance  encounter,  a  recollection,  an  image, 
just  as  a  spark  will  blow  up  a  powder  magazine. 
Moralists  are  prone  to  attach  an  unfavourable  mean- 
ing to  the  term  "  passion  "—that  of  depravity  or 
excess.  There  are,  it  is  true,  passions  that  may, 
when  abused,  become  depraved  and  inordinate. 
Still,  there  is  no  justification  for  the  anathemas 
levied  indiscriminately  at  passion.  As  even  the  best 
things  are  liable  to  abuse,  so,  on  this  principle, 
nothing  that  is  good  would  remain  on  earth. 

The  passions,  then,  are  the  pleasurable  or  dis- 
pleasing emotions  of  the  sensibility.  Emotions  are 
apt  to  work  out,  roughly,  as  follows : 

Self-love  is  the  fundamental  basis  of  all  the  pas- 
sions. It  is  the  source  whence  comes  a  continuous 
stream,  and  there  is  no  single  passion  that  does  not 
nourish  itself  therefrom.  "  The  hatred  that  one  ex- 
periences in  regard  to  some  object,"  writes  Bossuet, 
"  arises  from  the  love  felt  for  some  contrary  object. 
I  have  an  aversion  against  some  individual  merely 


62    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

because  he  stands  in  the  way  of  my  possessing  that 
which  I  love. 

"  Desire  is  merely  the  love  of  the  good  thing  not 
possessed. 

"/ojv  is  the  love  attached  to  the  good  thing  pos- 
sessed. 

'^Abhorrence  and  sorrow  are,  respectively,  the  love 
shrinking  from  and  deploring  the  evil,  whereby 
good  is  banished. 

*^  Daring  is  a  love  which  attempts  the  impossible 
in  order  to  frustrate  the  loss  of  the  loved  object; 
and  fear  is  a  love  despairing  of  that  which  it  has 
eternally  lost,  whence  prostration  results,  and  there 
can  be  no  recovery. 

*^  Anger  is  a  love  irritated  by  a  wrong  done,  and 
desirous  of  avenging  itself  on  the  guilty.  In  short, 
take  away  love,  and  there  are  no  passions ;  let  love 
stand,  and  it  begets  them  all."* 

Love,  desire,  joy,  hatred,  abhorrence,  sorrow, 
daring  and  fear,  hope,  despair,  anger — these  may  be 
described  as  the  scale  of  the  passions.  But,  as  with 
the  notes  of  the  musical  scale,  there  may  be  made 
good  or  bad  music,  so  with  these  notes  of  passion, 
these  may  be  played  upon  for  good  or  evil  from  the 
moral  standpoint.  All  depends  on  the  morality  of 
the  object  towards  which  our  passions  urge  us.  In 
themselves,  indeed,  passions  are  neither  good  nor 
evil,  since  goodness  or  moral  malice  is  initiated  with 
the  intervention  of  the  inteUigent  volition.  "Just 
as,"  says  St.  Gregory,  "the  iron  thrust  into  the 
furnace  takes  the  form  the  artificer  intends,  and 
moulding  itself  to  the  usage  destined  becomes  a 

♦  Bossuet,  "  De  la  Connaissance  de  Dieu  et  de  Soi-meme," 
chap  i.,  p.  6. 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  CHRISTIAN  IDEAL    53 

common  tool  or  a  noble  sword,  so  it  is  with  the  pas- 
sions." Subject  to  the  will  of  man,  these  are  ren- 
dered instruments  of  virtue  or  of  vice,  according  as 
he  subordinates  them  to  Reason  or  suffers  them  to 
reign  over  Reason. 

If  it  be  advantageous  to  have  sound  health,  good 
sight,  solid  muscles,  and  a  well-balanced  brain,  no 
less  is  it  to  possess  a  warm  heart,  an  ardent  disposi- 
tion, a  passionate  soul,  provided  always,  be  it  under- 
stood, that  the  passions,  however  vehement,  are 
content  to  serve  and  do  not  attempt  to  command. 
It  is  young  men,  especially,  who  experience  the  fires 
of  passion,  and  so  much  the  better,  if  they  but  rele- 
gate them  to  a  worthy  service.  For  these  sensitive 
emotions  that  appertain,  primarily,  to  virile  youth 
may  develop  into  the  vital  mainsprings  of  conduct. 
Intelligently  directed,  the  passions  operate  on  the 
man  of  character  as  an  impelling  force  that  suffers 
no  resistance.  This  state  of  effervescence,  produced 
in  love  by  the  introduction  of  this  sensitive  ingre- 
dient— passion — is  a  powerful  motive  force  of  the 
will,  and  one  of  virtue's  most  valuable  auxiliaries. 

II.  Sentiment  and  Passion. 

As  a  condition  to  this,  and  a  determining  factor 
in  the  whole  question  of  the  education  of  character, 
there  must  first  be  ascertained  the  possible  link  of 
connection  between  the  passions  and  the  volitional 
sentiments. 

The  will,  indeed,  furnishes  a  scale  of  sentiments 
corresponding  to  that  of  the  passions.  The  will 
loves,  desires,  enjoys,  hates,  recoils,  suffers,  is 
fearful    or    audacious,    placid    or   irritable.       But, 


54    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

whereas  the  passions,  whether  prompting  to  laughter 
or  tears,  to  song  or  lamentation,  have  to  seek  out, 
blindly,  inspiration,  from  any  kind  of  good  that  the 
imagination  and  the  senses  may  present  to  them  in 
glowing  colours,  the  sentiments  or  emotions  of  the 
will  are  directly  guided  to  their  prey  by  the  light  of 
the  intellect.  Clearly,  the  will,  whenever  it  turns 
from  the  Christian  ideal  as  the  determining  factor  of 
its  activity,  may  be  led  to  batten  on  sensible  gratifi- 
cations :  it  may,  to  be  explicit,  in  the  role  of  inter- 
mediary, steep  the  body  in  animal  pleasures  at  the 
expense  of  the  soul ;  still  this,  when  done,  is  done 
freely  and  consciously^  if  not  reasonably.  And  thus, 
prompted  by  our  volition,  whether  for  or  against  the 
Christian  ideal,  our  passions  derive  therefrom  their 
moral  impress ;  they  are  rendered  good  or  evil  by 
contact  with  its  object,  and  by  a  swift  rebound  they 
responsively  impart  to  its  sentiments  the  good  or 
evil  received  in  a  more  intense  form. 

The  question  then  is,  in  what  measure  enfeebled 
Christian  sentiments,  neutral  in  character,  such  as 
appertain  to  our  inert  volition,  can  let  in  the 
quickening  breath  of  passion,  and,  so  stimulated, 
enable  the  regenerate  will,  held  fast  by  the  Christian 
ideal,  to  exercise  sway  over  our  entire  energies. 

Our  soul  may  be  likened  to  an  organ  having  two 
manuals,  the  one  formed  of  the  sensitive  passions, 
and  the  other  of  the  volitional  sentiments. 

Are  we  able — to  make  use  of  a  technical  term — so 
to  couple  these  two  manuals  that  with  an  emotional 
note  of  the  sensibility,  there  shall  be  sounded,  simul- 
taneously, the  corresponding  note  of  the  will,  and 
vice  versa  ?      If  the  answer  be  in  the  affirmative. 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  CHRISTIAN  IDEAL    55 

then  is  the  education  of  character  a  feasible  under- 
taking. For  the  character,  as  I  have  earlier  observed, 
is  the  harmony  of  the  soul,  and  to  produce  this 
harmony  the  will  and  sensibility  must  mutually 
accord.  Whenever,  then,  by  force  of  intelligence 
and  perseverance,  we  have  succeeded  in  acquiring 
a  complete  mastery  over  our  instrument,  in  bringing 
certain  of  our  more  virile  passions  into  unison  with 
our  Christian  sentiments,  in  assuring  by  means  of 
regulated  habit  their  wellnigh  automatic  detach- 
ment, then  we  need  no  longer  fight  shy  of  difficulties. 
Our  fingers  will  fly,  independently,  as  it  were,  over 
the  double  manuals ;  concords  ever  more  rich  and 
melodious  will  multiply ;  our  entire  life  will  prove 
one  long  succession  of  harmonious  actions  related 
one  to  the  other,  and  producing  by  their  continuity 
the  great  poem  of  character. 

III.  The  Passions  and  the  Christian  Ideal. 

The  passions,  then,  are  the  movements  of  our 
non-rational  nature  which,  in  the  guise  of  love  or 
hate,  desire  or  aversion,  fear  or  daring,  joy  or 
sorrow,  bring  us  spontaneously  into  touch  with 
sensible  good,  or  deter  us  therefrom. 

And  before  we  can  realise  whether  our  volition  is 
capable  of  binding  these  emotional  feelings  to  the 
Christian  ideal,  so  that  the  love  of  it  may  be 
strengthened  and  quickened  within  us,  and  its 
reign  over  us  may  be  made  absolute,  there  is  a 
preliminary  difficulty  to  be  confronted.  So  far 
from  compromising  with  our  passions,  is  it  not 
rather  incumbent  upon  the  Christian  ideal,  as  its 
supreme   function,   totally  to   suppress  them,   and 


56    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

so  establish  its  empire  upon  their  ruins  ?  Since, 
surely,  the  Christian  ideal  consists  in  living  a 
divine  life,  in  living  the  supernatural  life,  in  its 
essence,  and  thus  increasingly  detached  from  matter. 
And  we  know  the  objects  of  the  passions  are 
wholly  material,  occupied  throughout  with  the 
senses,  and,  the  more  the  sensitive  emotion  excited 
in  us,  thereby,  is  spontaneous  and  vehement,  the 
further  we  are  removed  from  those  divine  alti- 
tudes, whereon  shines  resplendent  the  Christian 
ideal.  Answers,  widely  divergent,  have  been  forth- 
coming in  the  course  of  the  centuries  to  the  present 
inquiry.  I  venture  to  recall  the  more  remarkable 
amongst  these,  and  primarily  those  that  appear  the 
most  compatible  with  Catholic  doctrine. 

The  Stoic  Ideal. — The  Stoics,  of  old,  for  reasons 
that  need  not  at  present  be  discussed,  maintained 
that  the  passions  are  radically  evil,  and  that  man's 
ideal — a  fortiori,  the  Christian  ideal — is  to  drain 
them  dry,  so  to  speak,  at  their  source. 

According  to  Zeno  of  Citium  and  his  disciples, 
the  Sage,  while  emphatically  he  should  attain  to 
self-conquest,  ought  not  to  arrive  thereat  in  the 
manner  of  a  peacemaking  monarch  reforming  his 
unruly  subjects,  and  so  securing  their  submission, 
but  rather  in  the  guise  of  a  tyrant  who  reduces  them 
to  impotence,  and  ruthlessly  mows  them  down. 

The  true  Stoic  turns  his  back  on  the  sensitive 
passions,  on  their  joys  and  pains,  he  hardens  him- 
self against  their  influences,  he  does  not  attempt 
their  reformation,  he  suppresses  them,  and  his  dream 
is  to  attain  to  impassibility. 

"  Before  the  frivolity  of  his  people,  the  debauchery 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  CHRISTIAN  IDEAL    57 

and  treason  of  his  captains,  the  desertion  of  his  sol- 
diers, the  misdeeds  of  his  wife,  the  death  of  his 
children,  the  villainy  of  his  son  Commodus,  the 
degradation  of  character,  the  prostitution  of  mar- 
riage, the  insurrection  of  the  powers,  the  decay  of 
valour,  the  public  apathy,  the  growth  of  super- 
stition ;  in  the  face,  in  a  word,  of  the  destruction 
and  disgrace  of  his  army,  his  family,  and  his 
Empire,  Marcus  Aurelius  withheld  himself  from 
anger  and  grief  alike ;  it  was  a  source  of  pride  to 
him  that  like  some  unshakable  promontory,  against 
which  the  tempests  beat  in  vain,  he  was  able  to  live 
'  exempt  from  pain,  insensible  to  the  blow  which 
strikes  at  him  to-day,  inaccessible  to  the  fear  of  that 
which  threatens  him  to-morrow.*  "* 

This  radical  and  inhuman  solution  of  the  problem 
of  passion  called  forth,  inevitably,  another — no  less 
radical,  while  diametrically  opposed  to  it.  I  will 
not  waste  time  on  its  history — this  is  dealt  with  in 
every  ethical  treatise. 

The  Epicurean  Ideal. — Epicurus  is  its  father,  and 
Rousseau  its  sponsor.  Its  tenets  are  reducible  to 
this :  Human  nature  in  its  foundations  is  excellent. 
Every  tendency  which  wells  up  from  its  source  as 
from  any  pure  running  stream  shares  its  excellence. 
It  is  evil  and  contrary  to  nature  to  desire  to  set 
limits  to  its  expansion.  Obviously,  this  doctrine,  in 
that  it  panders  to  our  appetites,  has  been  acclaimed 
with  enthusiasm  by  the  crowd. 

"  The  passions  were  elevated  by  the  pagans  into 
gods,  and  had  their  temples,  and  their  feast-days. 
Their  allotted  function  was  not  only  to  offer  unto 

*  Janvier, "  Les  Passions,"  3*  Conf.,  p.  3.  (Lethielleux,  Paris :  1905.) 


68         THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

men  the  spectacle  of  scandalous  vice,  but,  as  well, 
to  propagate  licentiousness  as  personified  in  them- 
selves. As  though  corrupt  nature  were  not  of 
itself  sufficiently  prone  to  overstepping  the  limits, 
there  was  spread  out  before  them,  in  the  form  of 
Bacchanalian  and  Saturnalian  festivals,  a  vast 
horizon  of  debauchery ;  the  immortals  coming  down 
from  the  heavens  to  incite  revolted  consciences,  for 
their  own  greater  honour,  to  orgies,  whereof  they 
were  the  actual  promoters."* 

If  we  substitute  the  word  science  for  that  of  god^ 
it  is  not  hard  to  recognise  a  certain  doctrine  cur- 
rent to-day,  that  preaches  the  triumph  of  the  pas- 
sions. What  the  pagans  extolled  in  the  name  of 
their  idols,  spurious  philosophers  worship  to-day, 
in  the  name  of  science. 

Between  these  two  contradictory  theses,  of  which 
the  one  exalts  the  passions  beyond  measure,  and  the 
other  condemns  them  in  the  same  degree,  what  is 
the  line  to  be  adopted  by  a  Catholic  ? 

The  Christian  Ideal. — It  must  be  frankly  conceded 
that  Zeno  and  Epicurus  both  have  won  disciples, 
although  unconscious  ones,  from  amongst  sages  and 
Christians  alike. 

How  frequently  do  we  hear  promulgated  in  circles 
where,  nevertheless.  Catholic  doctrine  is  admitted, 
such  disconcerting  sophisms  pronounced  to  cloak 
over  deplorable  vice :  "  Youth  must  have  its  day." 
If  this  is  not  Epicureanism,  what  is  ?  "  Youth  must 
have  its  day!"  Practically,  this  implies  that  a 
young  man,  uniquely  because  he  is  young,  and  not 
because  he  is  a  man,  is  to  let  loose  his  passions, 
*  Janvier,  "  Les  Passions,"  3*  Conf.,  p.  5.    (Lethielleux,  Paris.) 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  CHRISTIAN  IDEAL    59 

without  any  attempt  at  their  restraint  or  direction 
into  the  channel  of  a  higher  ideal.  That  the  passions 
may  be  restive  when  one  is  young,  is  not  the  point ; 
we  have  to  consider  whether  the  mere  fact  of  youth 
entitles  their  free  exercise.  Surely  nothing  could 
be  further  opposed  to  the  teaching  of  Reason  and 
of  the  Faith.  Wherewith  are  we  to  produce  the 
men  of  the  future,  if  not  from  the  youth  of  to-day  ? 
When,  then,  man's  ideal  is  to  consist  in  mastering 
his  passions,  can  it  be  conceivably  anticipated  that 
from  one  day  to  the  next,  as  soon  as  he  chooses  to 
decree  that  his  youth  is  spent,  a  young  man  shall  be 
found  able  by  the  simple  fiat  of  his  will,  to  erect  an 
impregnable  barrier,  and  so  stem  the  tumultuous 
floods  he  has  voluntarily  let  loose  ? 

These  are  the  woeful  results  of  a  system  of  ethics 
drawn  from  books,  which  blithely  sacrifices  reality 
to  the  abstract  principle.  No,  a  hundred  times  no, 
youth  must  not  have  its  day,  in  the  sense  appre- 
hended by  the  worldly.  The  education  of  character 
is  not,  as  we  have  seen,  the  work  of  a  day.  If  we 
remain  passion's  slaves  throughout  twenty  years 
and  more,  it  does  not  rest  with  ourselves  alone  to 
throw  off,  at  will,  the  yoke,  and  assume  the  mastery. 
Have  we,  then,  in  virtue  of  the  Christian  ideal,  to 
strive  after  a  state  of  impassibility  that  is  purely 
chimerical,  to  stifle  our  passions  in  the  germ,  and  in 
this  way  attain  to  self-government?  This  stoical 
attitude,  Hke  the  one  preceding  it,  has  nothing  of 
the  human  element  in  it ;  it  is,  indeed,  contrary  to 
nature.  "  He  who  would  construct  an  angel  fashions 
a  beast,"  so  writes  Pascal,  and  experience  sufficiently 
confirms  him.    The  entire  force  and  attraction  of 


60    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

the  Christian  ideal  is  derived  from  its  being  at  the 
same  time  the  human  ideal  par  excellence.  Grace  is 
given  us  solely  for  the  perfecting  of  our  inherent 
nature.  All  that  is  contrary  to  nature  is  at  the  same 
time  anti-Christian. 

I  seek  no  better  proof  than  the  example  of  Jesus 
Christ,  our  universal  model.  It  is  enough  to 
glance  at  the  Gospel,  to  be  aware  that  the  Son  of 
Man,  Himself,  was  not  devoid  of  passion.  The 
sellers  in  the  Temple,  the  Pharisees,  the  exploiters 
of  the  people,  excited  His  anger;  He  wept  over 
faithless  Jerusalem;  He  shed  tears  at  the  tomb 
of  His  friend  Lazarus;  He  was  assailed  during  His 
Agony  with  acute  sensations  of  fear;  He  evinced,  at 
the  Last  Supper,  feelings  of  passionate  tenderness 
towards  certain  of  His  disciples ;  He  yearned  with 
an  ardent  desire  to  partake  of  His  Easter  repast  in 
their  midst;  He  loved  suffering;  He  committed 
finally  the  superb  folly  of  the  Cross. 

Is  it  not  clear,  therefore,  that  passion,  in  itself,  is 
not  reprehensible,  that  the  human  ideal  made  in- 
carnate in  Christ  does  not  make  its  appeal,  solely,  to 
the  intellectual  will,  but,  as  well,  to  the  brain,  the 
njerves,  the  muscles  and  the  heart,  to  the  flesh  and 
blood,  and  the  entire  physical  forces  with  which  we 
are  endowed. 

Nor  must  it  be  imagined  that  every  passion  is 
worthy,  whatever  the  channel  of  its  expression,  or 
degree  permitted.  Only  those  passions  are  worthy 
which  are  serviceable  in  our  aspirations  towards  the 
ideal,  as  embodied  in  the  Faith ;  evil,  wholly,  are 
those  passions  that  deter  us  therefrom,  and  paralyse 
our  will.     This  is  the  Catholic  doctrine  in  regard  to 


THE  PASSIONS  AND  CHRISTIAN  IDEAL     61 

the  passions.  And  it  is  neither  too  narrow  nor  too 
wide;  it  is  circumscribed  by  Truth.  It  is  truth 
that  tells  us  how  passion,  lusty  as  we  find  it  in 
youth,  when  discreetly  directed,  and  firmly  linked 
by  our  volition  to  the  Christian  ideal,  may  aid  us  in 
our  ascent  upwards.  Passion  fires  our  glance,  and 
enframes  with  a  flaming  aureole  our  brow,  so  that 
all  mankind  is  seduced  thereby;  passion  lends 
courage  to  the  most  cowardly,  and  animates  the 
most  insensible  amongst  us.  By  no  means,  there- 
fore, ought  we  to  show  contempt  for  passion,  since 
its  divers  manifestations  serve  us  as  a  spring- 
board whence  we  are  launched  to  the  conquest  of 
character.  There  are,  doubtless,  certain  conditions 
necessary  for  victory,  certain  tactics  to  be  employed ; 
but  these  are  already  half  mastered  with  the  know- 
ledge, that  the  Christian  life  cannot  issue  from 
a  corpse,  and  that  it  is  not  required  first  to  slay  the 
human  within  us  to  have  the  right  to  name  ourselves 
Christians. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  IN  REGARD  TO 
THE  PASSIONS 

The  Christian  ideal,  then,  does  not  consist  in  ex- 
tinguishing the  fires  of  passion,  but  rather  in  stirring 
the  flame  to  good  purpose.  Psychologists  com- 
monly agree  that  it  is  passion's  mission,  when 
wisely  disciplined,  to  whet  the  intellect  and  increase 
tenfold  the  volitional  impulse. 

According  to  Pascal,  there  is  no  great  thing 
achieved  without  the  stimulus  of  passion.  It  is  the 
source  of  all  noble  performance,  of  the  finest  dis- 
coveries, the  most  heroic  self-sacrifice.  And  stilh 
conversely,  passion,  misdirected,  blinds  the  intelli- 
gence. By  it,  the  imagination  is  exalted  to  the 
detriment  of  the  judgment,  the  powers  of  reflection 
become  paralysed,  the  perception  dulled.  Further, 
the  will  falls  victim  to  its  dominating  influence,  and 
is  reduced  from  the  controlling  force  it  should  be 
to  a  state  of  bondage.  And,  too,  there  is  always  the 
ultimate  risk  that  an  overwhelming  passion  may  so 
affect  the  nervous  system  it  shatters,  and  the 
organism  it  undermines,  that  there  may  result 
therefrom  the  dire  consequences  that  culminate  in 
insanity  or  even  death. 

It  has  already  been  pointed  out  that  the  moral 
quality  of  the  passions  is  entirely  determined  by 

62 


THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  63 

their  orientation.  In  the  case  of  a  Christian  soul, 
for  example,  there  is  scope  for  chaste  love  as  for 
legitimate  aversion ;  for  vehement  desire  as  for  holy 
anger ;  for  lawful  joys  as  for  permissible  griefs ;  for 
sublime  daring  and  salutary  fear. 

It  is  for  us  to  ascertain  in  what  degree,  precisely, 
these  contrary  passions  may  be  reconciled  with  the 
Christian  ideal,  so  that  the  impulses  of  the  will  may 
be  strengthened  and  our  power  over  it  increased. 
It  is  an  undeniable  fact  that,  whenever  an  idea  such 
as  the  Christian  idea  falls  into  a  soul  eager  to 
welcome  it,  it  attracts  to  itself— by  a  mutual  and 
mysterious  phenomenon  of  osmosis,  which  we  shall 
study  later — the  passions  which  are  needed  to 
ensure  its  germination.  By  these,  it  is  in  some  sort 
nourished  and  strengthened,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  definiteness  of  the  idea  finds  expression 
in  the  passions,  and  these  owe  to  it,  not  their 
ardour,  but  their  means  of  orientation.  Clearly, 
this  power  of  attraction  does  not  appertain  to  the 
pure  idea,  but  to  the  idea  willed.  Nor  do  the 
passions,  unassisted,  attach  themselves  to  the  idea ; 
their  primary  object,  in  that  it  refers  directly  to  the 
senses,  is  wholly  opposed.  It  is  requisite  for  the 
will,  therefore,  to  bring  about  this  alliance.  In 
virtue  of  its  initial  love  for  the  divine  Good,  the  will 
draws  from  the  living  Fount  of  the  passions  the 
stimulus  needful  for  its  increase.  Here  is  an 
immense  reserve  of  energy  ready  for  all  claims 
upon  it.  Insensible  to  the  faint  representations  of 
a  shadowy  ideal,  it  is  through  the  medium  of  the 
passions,  that  the  will,  enkindled,  shall  cause  the 
ideal  to  spring  into  vivid  life.    Or,  to  make  use  of 


64         THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

an  earlier  comparison,  I  may  say  that  it  behoves  the 
will  so  to  couple  the  manual  of  the  passions  with 
that  of  personal  feeling  that,  inspired  by  their 
spontaneous  and  thrilling  notes  swelling  forth  to 
the  praise  of  the  Christian  ideal,  it  may  vibrate  in 
unison  with  them,  and  its  every  manifestation  be  as 
so  many  harmonic  progressions,  whose  uninter- 
rupted succession  go  to  form  the  great  composition 
of  character. 

I.  The  Will  and  the  Physiological  Effects 
OF  Passion. 

But  has  the  will,  actually,  such  power  of  orienta- 
tion over  the  passions  as  we  have  alleged?  Here 
is  the  question  to  be  elucidated. 

First,  it  may  be  admitted  that  the  spontaneity  and 
vehemence  characteristic  of  any  cases  of  intense 
emotional  excitement  tend  to  deny  the  efficacy  of 
the  will  in  this  regard.  It  appears  most  difficult  for 
a  furious  man  to  master  his  emotion,  on  the  instant. 
Similarly,  when  sensuality  is  awakened  for  the  first 
time,  there  would  seem  to  be  no  more  foolhardy 
action  than  to  attempt  its  suppression  by  a  frontal 
attack.  We  do  not  gather  from  history  that  our 
forbears,  when  they  shot  their  arrows  at  the  storm, 
as  if  to  flout  it,  were  in  the  least  successful  in  avert- 
ing its  violence  and  fatal  effects. 

It  is  with  passion,  aggravated  to  intensity,  as  with 
a  river,  "That  one  might  more  easily  turn  back 
than  deflect  from  its  straight  course."  * 

This  tells  us  that  the  direct  power  of  the  will,  if 

*  Bossuet,  "  De  la  Connaissance  de  Dieu  et  de  Soi-meme," 
chap,  iii.,  p.  19. 


THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  65 

it  may  be  assumed  at  all,  is  but  slight.  But  there 
may  exist  an  alternative  influence,  which,  to  com- 
prehend, we  must  first  distinguish  between  the 
physiological  effects  by  which  passion  ordinarily 
reveals  itself,  and  the  manifold  causes  upon  which 
it  is  dependent.  Physiologically  regarded,  passion 
is  an  "  organic  shock  " — a  disturbance  in  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood,  in  the  respiratory  movements,  in 
the  heart's  action.  This  disturbance  is  shown  in 
demonstrations  of  gesture,  voice,  or  physical  work- 
ings of  one  kind  or  another. 

Over  the  essentially  physiological  material  of 
passion  that  includes  wellnigh  all  those  organs  that 
are  not  subject  to  modification  by  the  will — con- 
spicuously the  heart — we  have,  through  psycho- 
logical agencies,  no  direct  control  whatever;  our 
sole  means  of  action  are  external,  and  entail  recourse 
to  therapeutic  aids.  These  need  not  be  indicated 
here. 

It  is  quite  otherwise,  however,  when,  by  the 
influences  of  emotion,  the  muscles  are  called  into 
play. 

"When  stirred  by  the  impulses  of  emotion,  we 
may  endeavour  to  restrain  its  outward  exhibition. 
Anger,  for  instance,  calls  forth  for  its  expression, 
certain  sympathetic  muscular  movements — causes 
the  jaws  to  tighten,  the  fists  to  clench  themselves,  the 
muscles  of  the  face  to  contract,  the  breath  to  come 
in  gasps  :  Quos  ego  !  I  may  command  my  muscles  to 
relax,  my  lips  to  smile ;  I  may  be  able  to  moderate  my 
respiratory  movements.  Yet,  if  I  have  not  essayed  to 
check,  in  its  earliest  manifestations,  the  symptoms 
of  emotional  excitement— if  I  have  given  rein  to  it, 

5 


66         THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

my  later  efforts  are  likely  to  prove  abortive,  unless, 
interiorly,  my  will  brings  other  emotions  into 
operation,  such  as  the  motives  of  personal  dignity, 
of  decorum,  and  so  forth."* 

II.  The  Will  and  the  Causes  of  Passion. 

Moreover,  any  influence  we  may  possess  over  the 
passions  operates  rather  on  their  causes  than  their 
effects.  And  among  these  causes,  which  are  mani- 
fold, it  is  expedient  to  distinguish  between  im- 
mediate and  remote  causes. 

Remote  Causes. — These  are  of  twofold  description. 
There  are  external  causes,  such  as  physical  and 
moral  environment :  "  Certain  passions  are,  indeed, 
the  natural  product  of  certain  climates."  f 

Further,  in  virtue  of  the  law  of  Contagion,  which 
governs  the  diffusion  of  the  emotions,  there  is  pro- 
vided in  education,  in  example  and  association, 
a  constant  source  of  nourishment.  It  is  to  internal 
causes  our  attention  must  be  chiefly  directed.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  we  all,  alike,  carry  within  us  the  germ 
of  the  various  passions ;  while,  too,  the  infant  may, 
at  birth,  inherit  certain  tendencies  more  pronounced 
than  others  that  favour  the  predominance  of  one  of 
these.  Such  tendencies  are  often  the  fruit  of 
heredity,  the  outcome  of  the  natural  law  of  atavism, 
and  a  proof  of  the  solid  link  binding  us  to  our 
ancestry. 

This  predisposition,  whether  physical  or  moral, 
occasionally  slumbers  for  a  generation  or  more,  and 
then,  uncontrollably,  reappears. 

*  Payot,  "  L'Education  de  la  Volonte,"  p.  63. 

t  Montesquieu,  "  Esprit  des  Lois,"  L.  xiv.,  chap,  ii. 


THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  67 

From  this  standpoint,  the  direct  power  of  our 
volition  appears  to  be  nil,  since  we,  assuredly,  are 
not  at  liberty  to  select  our  ancestors.  Solely,  then, 
bj^  diligent  effort,  wisely  directed,  are  we  able  to 
temper  these  transmitted  influences  and  neutralise 
their  evil  effects.  So,  too,  with  regard  to  the  will 
in  its  dealings  with  individual  physical  tempera- 
ment. According  to  the  predominance  of  certain 
organic  elements,  a  temperament  is  predisposed  to 
this  or  that  peculiar  passion.  Predisposition  is  a 
fact  independent  of  the  subject.  Quite  beyond  our 
sphere  of  control  are  the  visitations  of  a  bilious, 
a  nervous,  a  sanguine,  or  lymphatic  habit  of  body ; 
to  be  prone  to  anger,  sloth,  cowardice,  or  sensuality, 
melancholy,  or  exuberant  gaiety,  lies  not  within 
the  ruling  of  our  direct  purpose. 

How,  then,  can  the  will  acquire  control  over  the 
passions  if  all  these  internal  and  external  causes  are 
its  antagonists  ? 

Immediate  Causes. — The  powers  of  volition  should 
not  be  lightly  regarded.  Just  as  the  organic  elements 
in  the  physical  temperament  combine  to  produce 
the  individual  physiognomy,  so  our  inherited  ten- 
dencies cannot  be  identified  with  the  passions, 
in  their  proper  signification,  but  are  merely  disposi- 
tions more  or  less  remotely  inclining  to  this  or  that 
single  passion.  I  regard  these  as  so  many  powder 
magazines :  withhold  the  spark,  and  there  will  be  no 
explosion. 

Unhappily,  there  are  too  frequent  cases  occurring, 
when  the  careless  breeze,  in  conjunction  with  chance 
circumstance,  carries  the  spark  within  the  danger 
zone.    An  explosion  inevitably  follows,  and,  in  a 


68    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

moment,  our  moral  organism  is  shattered,  and  we 
are  buried  beneath  the  ruins. 

More  frequently,  however,  the  task  of  firing  the 
powder  is  ours,  and  so,  with  due  precaution,  we  are 
free  to  explode,  and  disperse,  together  with  the 
dynamite,  the  sundry  obstacles  that  block  the  way 
between  our  will  and  the  Christian  ideal.  How 
is  this  to  be  done  ?  We  first  must  impose  a  defined 
boundary  upon  our  sensible  and  imaginative  per- 
ceptions, and,  too,  upon  our  ideas;  since,  unde- 
niably, it  is  these  perceptions  and  ideas  that,  by 
means  of  the  images  to  which  they  refer,  play 
a  leading  r6le  in  the  evocation  of  passion — that, 
indeed,  of  the  spark  igniting  unawares  the  gun- 
powder reserves,  or  other  inflammable  properties. 
Suddenly,  there  are  flashed  in  lively  colours  before 
our  fancy  the  objects  that  attract  or  repel  us,  that 
incite  our  desire  or  aversion,  provoke  our  love  or 
hatred,  that  inspire  us  with  joy  or  affliction,  with 
hope  or  despair,  with  daring  or  resentment. 

Experience  teaches  that,  in  the  main,  we  ourselves, 
are  the  instigators  of  the  sensible  perceptions,  of  our 
imaginative  faculties,  of,  above  all,  those  ideas  that 
contain  within  them  the  fire  requisite  to  set  the 
passions  aflame. 

For  example,  I  bear  resentment  against  a  person 
who,  for  the  time  being,  is  not  in  the  very  least  in 
possession  of  my  thoughts.  Unexpectedly,  I  meet 
him  at  a  street  corner.  The  sight  of  him  makes  me 
start ;  I  shake  my  fist ;  I  strike  out  at  him  ;  I  give 
vent  to  my  anger. 

No  voluntary  action  of  mine  has  called  forth  this 
meeting.    I  was,  actually,  not  even  thinking  of  my 


THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  69 

enemy.  Still,  should  he  happen  to  reside  in  the 
same  locality  as  myself,  it  rests  wholly  with  me,  if  I 
am  acquainted  with  his  habitual  movements,  to  spare 
myself  a  further  encounter. 

Or,  let  us  say,  I  see  displayed,  in  the  windows  of 
a  bookshop,  a  number  of  improper  picture  cards — I 
was  not  previously  aware  of  them,  but  their  contem- 
plation awakens  in  me  a  sudden  access  of  sensual 
desire  for  which  I  am,  clearly,  not  responsible. 
I  can,  however,  on  the  morrow,  change  my  route, 
and  so  avoid  the  spectacle  of  this  display;  and  I 
am  not  compelled  to  purchase  these  undesirable 
images  in  order  that  I  may  hang  them  on  my  walls 
or  treasure  them  in  a  drawer.  And  so  with  every 
imagiqative  representation  that  is  likely  to  reawaken 
passions  that  lie  dormant,  or  are  only  partially  sup- 
pressed. 

We  may  reason  thus  with  regard  to  the  flow  of 
ideas.  While  thought,  naturally,  is  subject  to  a 
constant  shifting  movement,  it  is  still  perfectly 
simple  for  any  young  man,  who  is  sufficiently 
serious-minded,  and  observant,  to  assume  a  very 
real  control  in  this  direction.  He  becomes  aware 
that  one  single  idea,  having  before  its  view  certain 
images  or  impressions  by  which  it  is  sustained, 
evokes  in  the  region  of  feeling,  certain  irresistible 
emotions  that,  indulged,  result  in  moral  deteriora- 
tion to  a  notable  degree.  It  rests  with  him  to  pass 
on  to  some  other  idea,  or  to  create  a  diversion  by 
throwing  his  energies  into  a  game,  a  walk,  some 
intellectual  occupation,  or  by  seeking  fresh  company. 

Thus,  by  the  power  of  our  will  over  our  per- 
ceptions and  ideas,  our  passions,  engendered  by 


70    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

those  ideas  and  perceptions  (so  acting  as  immediate 
causes),  are  kept  in  check. 

More  is  not  required  to  solve  the  problem  raised 
at  the  opening  of  this  chapter :  Is  our  will  capable 
of  forming  an  alliance  between  the  Christian  ideal, 
and  such  sensible  emotions  as  may  determine  its 
corresponding  sentiments,  and  so  secure  for  this 
ideal  a  complete  victory  over  our  conflicting 
energies? 

It  is  evident  that  if  we  do,  indeed,  largely  control 
our  perceptions  and  ideas,  it  would  suffice  to  cement 
to  the  Christian  idea  those  perceptive  ideas  that 
may  be  termed  impassioned — since  thus  is  the 
manifestation  of  passion  provoked — in  order  to 
infuse  into  it  their  vigour,  their  animating  breath, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  inflame  the  will  in  its  favour. 
In  this  is  expressed  the  art  of  "  philosophising " 
with  the  passions.  It  is  an  art  that  entails  the 
exercise  of  close  reflection  and  activity. 

III.  The  Utilisation  of  the  Passions. 

In  virtue  of  the  fact  that  our  ideas  and  perceptions 
are  under  obedience  to  its  directions,  a  very  real, 
albeit  indirect,  mastery  is  exercised  by  the  will  over 
our  passions.  We  may  liken  its  power  to  that  of 
any  common-sense  man  over  the  house  he  inhabits. 
He  is  quite  capable  of  preventing  its  destruction  by 
fire,  if  he  will  but  take  the  trouble  to  look  closely 
after  its  safety. 

Now,  it  is  by  no  means  requisite  to  extinguish 
the  flame  of  passion,  burning  interiorly,  any  more 
than  it  is  essential  to  forgo  the  comforts  of  a  fire,  in 
order  to  avert  a  conflagration.     What  is  incumbent 


THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  11 

upon  all  is  to  keep  under  inspection  their  smoulder- 
ing passions,  and  so  prevent  a  disastrous  outburst. 

To  this  end,  our  passions  must  be  steered  into 
some  direct  course;  they  must  be  applied  to  the 
needs  of  our  daily  life,  just  as  the  mistress  of  a 
house  utilises  her  fire  for  innumerable  kinds  of 
domestic  service. 

It  is  this,  I  repeat,  in  which  consists  the  art  of 
"philosophising"  with  the  passions.  We  have  to 
consider  how  we  may  best  identify  this  art  with  the 
Christian  ideal,  and  we  shall  find  that  the  result 
of  this  consideration  will  furnish  the  key  to  the 
problem  of  the  education  of  character. 

The  Problem.  —  Let  us  suppose  the  case  of  a 
student  who,  newly  launched  upon  life,  determines 
to  achieve  something.  Indeed,  is  it  possible  to  con- 
jecture that  any  student,  fresh  from  his  University 
course,  will  start  his  career  with  the  intention  of 
doing  nothing  in  particular  in  the  future  ?  His 
desire  maybe  is  to  become  a  doctor,  or  a  lawyer,  to 
qualify  for  a  professorship,  or  to  study  for  the  Bar. 
The  one  particular  thing  that  he  aspires  to  do, 
assumes  for  him  the  value  of  an  ideal,  and  not  merely 
an  ideal  perceived,  that  allures  the  imagination,  but 
an  ideal  willed  and  cherished. 

Now,  what  happens  with  each  one  of  us,  whenever 
we  come  face  to  face  with  that  ideal,  or  when  cir- 
cumstances conjure  up  its  recollection  in  our  minds? 
Do  we  not  instantly  wax  hot  and  ardent  in  its 
pursuit?  There  tends,  indeed,  to  concentrate 
around  this  cherished  ideal  the  sum  of  our  vital 
forces — pre-eminently,  of  our  passions.  In  virtue 
of   the  love  we  bear  it,   we  are  urged   upwards 


n        THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

beyond  the  plane  of  those  earthly  and  sensual 
affections  that  hold  us  captive,  and  paralyse  our 
keenest  energies. 

If,  by  temperament  or  heredity,  we  are  prone  to 
anger,  we  find  it  quite  easy  to  divert  this  emotional 
current — just  as  by  providing  an  outlet  one  stems 
the  violent  rush  of  a  torrent — and  so  conduct  its 
energies,  that  these  may  serve  such  constantly 
recurring  difficulties  as  block  our  Christian  pro- 
gress. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  we  are,  by  nature,  timid  and 
fearful,  little  by  little,  through  a  species  of  self- 
suggestion,  by  dint  of  reflecting  on  the  joys  of 
success  and  the  shame  of  failure,  we  grow  to  show 
proof  of  courage.  The  hope  of  success  sustains  us, 
and  its  effect  is  evident  in  our  work  and  throughout 
life.  In  a  word,  the  will  to  achieve  something,  to  gain 
a  position  in  the  world,  to  create  for  ourselves  a 
place  in  the  sun,  plays  in  regard  to  the  passions, 
the  same  role  as  that  of  the  magnet,  acting  on  the 
innumerable  currents  induced  in  a  bar  of  soft  iron. 
The  will  attracts  to  itself  those  passions  proper  for 
its  fertilisation.  "  It  (the  will)  drives  them  (the 
passions)  in  the  same  direction,  while  it  destroys 
the  repelling  forces,  so  that  from  what  was  chaos, 
there  is  produced  a  regulated  current  of  a  hundred- 
fold additional  strength."* 

For,  clearly,  the  will  must  vibrate,  in  its  turn,  in 
unison  with  the  passions  it  has  evoked,  and  attracted 
towards  the  ideal  to  be  realised. 

The  Method. — And  we  have  to  remember  how 
hard  it  is  for  the  will  (nerveless  and  feeble  as  we  find 
♦  Payot,  "  L'Education  dc  la  Volonte,"  p.  40. 


THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  78 

it  at  the  outset),  if  it  would  walk  hand  in  hand  with 
the  ideal,  to  furnish  the  needful  stimulus.  As  soon, 
however,  as  the  favourable  passions  have  operated 
in  this  direction,  every  action  of  ours  falls  into  line. 
Aroused  from  its  apathy,  the  will  restores  to  the 
passions,  in  the  form  of  radiant  and  continuous 
energy,  all  that  these  have  conveyed  to  it  through 
the  impact,  so  to  speak,  of  blind  and  incoherent 
forces. 

In  other  words,  we  do,  voluntarily,  and  by  the  aid 
of  our  intelligence,  that  which  previously  had  been 
performed  instinctively,  and  under  the  impulse  of 
violent  but  fugitive  emotion.  In  this  manner,  our 
life  acquires  unity  and  comparative  stability. 

How  many  students  there  are  who  have  suc- 
ceeded in  passing,  wellnigh  scathlessly,  this  perilous 
period  of  their  youth,  by  virtue  of  that  wondrous 
power  possessed  by  the  will  of  bringing  strong 
passion  into  union  with  a  definite  ideal  1 

In  this  regard,  it  must  not  be  overlooked  that 
man's  ideal  does  not  consist  in  vain  ambition,  and  the 
acquisition  of  some  kind  of  worldly  dignity.  He 
has  to  aspire  towards  individuality  and  the  de- 
velopment of  "  character." 

If,  indeed,  the  human  ideal  were  represented  by 
a  code  of  social  advancement,  by  the  occupation  of 
one  or  other  lucrative  or  highly  estimated  post, 
then,  its  realisation  would  be  well  within  the  reach 
of  a  number  who,  for  the  purpose,  could  devote  the 
sum  of  their  least  worthy  energies  in  order  to 
achieve  their  end. 

It  is  certain  that  nothing  in  this  world  can  be 
attained  save  by  exertion.    He  who  would  carve 


74    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

out  his  path  in  life  must  perforce  put  his  hand  to 
the  plough.  For  success,  he  must  be  energetic  and 
capable,  but  it  is  by  no  means  essential  that  he  be 
moral.  The  morality  of  the  parvenu,  of  the  time- 
server,  who  holds  in  restraint  certain  of  his  pas- 
sions that  those  he  most  cherishes  may  flourish, 
recalls  the  attitude  of  a  man  who,  attacked  by 
gangrene,  consents  willingly  to  the  removal  of  one 
limb,  for  the  safety  of  the  rest,  and  the  preservation 
of  his  life. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  a  higher  and  worthier  am- 
bition is  at  stake,  and  a  man  aims  at  true  distinction, 
then  aptitude  and  energy  do  not  suffice — there  is 
needed  the  leaven  of  morality.  For,  self-interest 
has  no  sway  here.  To  master  self,  to  erect  a  barrier 
against  the  encroachments  of  enfeebling  passions, 
and  to  place  those  that  are  worthy  alongside  of 
reason,  is  the  desired  goal. 

A  man  can  become  a  something  by  the  expendi- 
ture of  prudence,  justice,  sobriety,  and  other  sympa- 
thetic virtues ;  he  can  never  be  a  somebody  unless 
he  conscientiously  practises  their  entire  number,  as 
embodied  in  the  Christian  code. 

An  austere  ideal  like  this  does  not,  it  is  obvious, 
possess  charms  for  the  majority,  even  the  well- 
disposed.  It  behoves  its  promoters,  therefore,  to 
urge  its  cause  with  some  adroitness. 

Let  us  consider  in  this  light  our  young  student, 
who,  while  he  wishes  to  become  a  something, 
aspires  likewise  to  be  a  somebody. 

In  the  beginning,  the  first  aspiration  predominates, 
since  it  represents  self-interest.  Cost  what  it  may, 
to  attain   to  it  is  his  chief  aim.     Let  us  suppose, 


THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  75 

then,  that  one  fine  day,  after  reflection,  he  perceives 
that  the  simplest  way  of  becoming  a  something  is  to 
be  a  somebody,  that  the  possession  of  self  is  the  short- 
cut to  the  possession  of  place,  fortune,  and  position. 
Then,  on  the  instant,  the  idea  of  being  a  somebody 
joins  forces  with  that  other  idea  of  becoming  a 
something,  and  the  emotions  excited  by  the  first  are 
at  once  communicated  to  the  second.  The  result 
does  not  immediately  issue  in  perfection,  since  the 
student  in  question  subordinates  the  highest  ideal 
to  material  ends. 

Nevertheless,  we  must  take  human  nature  as  it  is. 
It  were  better  to  attain  to  "  character "  by  devious 
ways,  than  pass  one's  life  in  bewailing  those 
obstacles  that  eternally  intervene  between  us  and 
the  direct  route. 

Once  master  of  himself,  it  becomes  easy  for  the 
student  to  shift  his  outlook.  The  higher  satisfac- 
tion he  experiences  once  he  has  succeeded  in  tran- 
scending self,  in  his  effort  to  surpass  his  fellows, 
tends  to  make  him  .despise  the  rest,  or,  at  any  rate, 
appraise  things  at  their  true  value. 

Shall  we,  then,  show  ourselves  more  exacting 
than  is  God  Almighty,  who  creates  good  out  of  evil, 
and  transforms  sinners  into  upright  men !  We 
should  disregard  these  puritanical  spirits,  who,  con- 
temptuous of  the  proofs  that  experience  affords, 
presume  to  condemn  everyone  on  the  strength  of 
their  own  tenets. 

Indisputably,  it  were  preferable  to  reach  the 
summit  by  the  direct  route,  and  not  by  the  side- 
track of  a  lesser  ambition  and  more  ignoble  ideal. 
If,  however,  by  a  rash  leap  into  the  unknown,  I  risk 


76    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

breaking  my  neck,  shall  I  suffer  condemnation  if  I 
rather  chose  to  ascend,  circumspectly,  those  steps  that 
will  bring  me  to  my  destination  in  safety,  although 
their  direction  may  be  tortuous  and  broken  ? 

The  essential  is  to  advance  continuously,  and  so 
to  use  to  good  purpose  the  gifts  God  and  nature  have 
bestowed.  It  is  by  no  means  reprehensible  to  aim 
after  distinction;  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  worthy 
ambition.  We  have  but  to  utilise  this  desire  as  a 
means  of  vanquishing  the  brute  within  us,  of  con- 
quering self,  so  that  "character,"  which  is  indi- 
viduality, asserts  itself  by  sure  degrees,  and  thus 
our  future  becomes  assured. 

The  Solution.  —  All,  thenceforth,  follows  inevit- 
ably. Having  faith,  we  are  aware  of  the  Christian 
ideal.  Now,  the  Christian  ideal  is  identical  with 
the  human  ideal,  transposed,  completed ;  it  is,  in  a 
word,  the  human  ideal  rendered  capable  of  realisa- 
tion by  natural  and  supernatural  agencies.  There- 
fore, it  becomes  impossible  when  we  contemplate 
the  one  to  ignore  the  other. 

And  if  personality  be  induced  by  a  simple  act  ot 
the  will,  by  whose  decree  certain  passions  and 
feelings  are  brought  into  touch  with  this  ideal,  how 
shall  it  be  with  us  when,  by  the  light  of  faith,  we 
perceive,  that  real  individuality  can  be  fostered  alone 
by  untiring  and  fervent  aspiration  towards  the  ideal 
set  for  Christian  attainment. 

Here  we  find  exhibited  those  magnetic  properties 
previously  analysed.  The  Christian  idea  will 
attract  to  itself  these  various  forces,  will  organise 
and  control  them ;  while,  in  its  turn,  the  will,  aided 
by  Divine  love,  deriving  strength  and  support  there- 


THE  TACTICS  OF  THE  WILL  77 

from,  will  restore  in  supernatural  energy,  in  the 
form  of  sentiments,  the  sum  of  that  lesser  natural 
force  communicated  to  the  will  in  the  form  of 
passions. 

Thus,  the  sublime  poem  of  character  attains  fulfil- 
ment. We  rejoice  the  more  over  its  harmonious 
rendering,  as  we  become  aware  of  the  labour  its 
composition  has  entailed. 


CHAPTER  III 

CONCERNING  THE  INTELLECT  AND  ITS  RELATION 
TO  THE  PASSIONS  AND  FEELINGS  IN  THE  EDU- 
CATION OF  CHARACTER 

If  I  have  dwelt  at  length  upon  the  will's  function  in 
regard  to  the  passions  as  affecting^  the  education  of 
character,  I  have  done  so  in  order  the  better  to 
emphasise  that  which  appertains  to  the  intelli- 
gence. For,  as  was  pointed  out  in  an  earlier 
chapter,  the  will  is  the  highest  form  of  human 
activity,  of  self-conscious  activity  as  opposed  to 
instinct,  that  is  unconscious  and  inevitable  activity. 
And  reflection  from  which  all  self-conscious  action 
springs  is  pre-eminently  a  characteristic  of  the 
intelligence. 

Our  powers  of  reflection  are  determined  by  our 
powers  of  intellect.  Now,  the  task  imposed  upon 
the  will  is  to  bind  fast  to  the  Christian  ideal  the 
beneficent  passions  and  sentiments,  and  estrange 
therefrom  those  that  are  hostile ;  and  this,  clearly, 
is  a  task  accomplished  by  reflection. 

Primarily,  it  is  necessary  to  be  disposed  toward 
reflection  if  this  desired  union  is  to  be  effected — 
hence  the  leadership  granted  to  the  will  in  the 
training  of  character — and  then  also  it  is  necessary  to 
know  how  to  pursue  this  habit  of  reflection,  and  this 
lies  with  the  intelligence. 

78 


CONCERNING  THE  INTELLECT  79 

Let  us  consider,  then,  the  role  played  by  medita. 
tive  reflection  as  regards  the  sensitive  passions, 
or  the  volitional  sentiments,  in  the  education  of 
character.  And,  first,  let  it  be  seen  in  vi^hat  this 
role  consists. 

I. 

To  begin  with,  meditative  reflection  must  not  be 
confounded  with  study,  properly  so  described. 
The  mode  of  procedure  is  similar,  but  its  aim  is 
widely  different. 

Let  us  recall  what  has  been  written  on  this 
subject  by  a  contemporary  psychologist : 

"  By  meditative  reflection,  we  do  not,  it  is  evident, 
infer  the  state  of  reverie,  or  that  loose  mental  habit 
so  disastrous  to  self-conquest,  and  against  which  we 
have  to  wrestle  continuously.  For,  whereas,  in  this 
state,  the  attention  slumbers,  and  the  conscience 
is  perpetually  a  prey  to  the  shifting  scene,  or  mood, 
that  colours  our  sentiments  or  ideas,  reflection,  on 
the  contrary,  leaves  nothing  to  chance.  Moreover, 
reflection  differs  from  study — which  aims  con- 
spicuously at  the  acquisition  of  some  specific  know- 
ledge— in  that  it  tends  not  to  the  'furnishing  of  the 
soul,'  but  to  its  '  moulding.' "  * 

"  When  we  study,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  seek 
primarily  to  know ;  when  we  reflect,  we  have  quite 
another  intention.  Our  aim  is  to  awaken  in  the  soul, 
sensations  either  of  hatred  or  of  love."t 

All  this  is  perfectly  true,  but  our  psychologist 
goes  beyond  this :  "  In  study,  we  are  dominated  by 

*  Montaigne,  III.  3. 

j-  Payot,  "  L' Education  de  La  Volonte,^'  p.  92. 


80    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

the  pursuit  after  truth ;  in  meditative  reflection,  the 
truth  matters  not  at  all.  We  prefer  a  useful  lie  to 
an  inconvenient  truth :  our  research  is  entirely 
governed  by  the  motive  of  utility." 

I  emphatically  deny  this.  Truth,  I  think,  is  as 
important  in  reflection  as  in  study.  With  this 
distinction:  in  study,  we  aim  at  speculative  and 
scientific  truth ;  in  reflection,  we  aspire  after 
practical  and  vital  truth. 

What,  then,  constitutes  the  difference  between 
speculative  and  practical  truth  ? 

There  exists  a  very  real  diff"erence,  and  upon  it 
the  education  of  character  will  be  seen  actually  to 
depend.  Let  me  explain.  What  is  the  object  enter- 
tained by  the  University  student  when  he  enters  upon 
his  course  of  study  ?  It  is,  I  imagine,  to  raise  him- 
self to  the  intellectual  level  of  his  day,  to  acquire  a 
knowledge,  both  profound  and  precise,  of  philosophy, 
mathematics,  history,  law,  or  medicine.  His  other 
and  ulterior  aim  is  to  secure  a  position  in  the  world, 
and  make  profitable  use  of  his  acquired  learning. 
Yet,  strangely  enough,  this  general  motive  of  utility 
in  no  wise  modifies  the  speculative  nature  of  his 
acquired  knowledge.  Rather,  indeed,  is  his  ultimate 
success  regulated  by  the  degree  of  learning  attained 
in  philosophy,  or  the  mathematical,  historical,  or 
medical  sciences. 

The  speculative  truth  aimed  at  in  his  University 
studies  consists,  then,  in  a  thorough  acquaintance 
with  the  reahty  that  claims  his  attention.  This 
truth  is  absolute,  and  the  same  for  all.  He  may 
quit  one  University  for  another,  yet  wherever  he 
may  go  his  course  of  study,  if  it  be  profound,  will 


CONCERNING  THE  INTELLECT  81 

lead  invariably  to  the  same  result.  Possibly,  the 
identical  system  of  philosophy  may  not  be  followed, 
but  a  system  of  philosophy  is  not  philosophy,  and 
fundamentally,  all  systems  run  on  parallel  lines, 
since  all  are  concerned  uniquely  with  the  discovery 
of  the  truth,  in  its  absolute  form. 

The  theories  of  hyper-space  and  of  metageometry 
may  allure  the  imagination  for  an  instant,  but  I  am 
not  aware  of  any  existing  University  where  any 
attempt  has  been  made  to  apply  these  theories  to  our 
universe,  nor  to  refute  the  theorem  of  the  square 
described  on  the  hypothenuse. 

To  sum  up,  all  speculative  truth  is  independent 
of  the  practical  object  in  view ;  as,  too,  of  the  sub- 
jective nature  of  our  search  after  it. 

Whatever  our  ambition,  whatever  our  tempera- 
ment, we  cannot  hinder  two  and  two  from  amounting 
to  four,  no  more  than — to  use  a  classic  simile — we 
can  cause  a  door  to  open  and  close  simultaneously. 
There  exists  nothing  less  susceptible  of  modification 
at  the  dictates  of  caprice — speaking  speculatively — 
than  the  contradictory  proposition.  By  denial,  its 
opposers  become  perforce  its  adherents  as  they  seek 
its  aid  to  justify  their  negation. 

So  it  is  with  speculative  truth,  as  learning  reveals 
it.  In  regard  to  it  we  may  not  say,  as  did  Pascal : 
"Truth  on  this  side  of  the  Pyrenees,  error  on  the 
other  side."  Truth,  indeed,  is,  and  remains,  absolute. 
It  has  influenced — I  fully  concede  it — the  progress 
of  mankind.  It  is  to  the  thinkers  among  men  that 
we  owe  all  great  and  lasting  achievement ;  it  is  the 
inventors  in  science,  in  philosophy,  in  art,  and 
letters,  who  are  the  actual  heroes  of  history,  rather 

6 


82    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

than  the  popular  agitators,  the  blusterers,  the 
politicians,  or  even  the  most  famous  among  the 
world-conquerors. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  however,  that  speculative 
truth  is  not  able  to  claim  one  moral  convert,  is 
wholly  incapable  of  ethically  reforming  a  people  or 
an  individual,  or  of  begetting  "  character,"  whether 
in  a  race  or  a  unit. 

11. 

To  do  this,  Truth  must  no  longer  be  speculative — it 
must  be  practical.  Truth  must  consent  to  be  trans- 
ported from  the  plane  of  the  Absolute  over  which 
it  reigns,  to  the  Relative  that  there  it  may  have 
dominion.  In  other  words,  instead  of  contem- 
plating truth  from  without,  we  must  afford  it  a 
habitation  within  us  ;  instead  of  worshipping  truth 
with  our  intelligence  alone,  we  must  above  all  wor- 
ship it  with  our  spirit,  and  with  its  quickening 
breath  vitalise  each  action  of  our  daily  life. 

But  how  complex  is  this  spirit  of  ours,  if  by  it  we 
apprehend  the  sum  of  our  energies,  intellect,  will, 
and  sensibility,  modified  in  each  one  of  us  by  the 
tempering  influences  of  heredity,  temperament, 
education,  environment,  or  acquired  habit !  May  not 
truth  itself  be  menaced  when  assimilated  by  such 
unlike  and  conflicting  forces  ?  Speculatively,  it 
may  be :  practically,  not  so,  provided  always  we 
look  to  it  that  our  manner  of  life  can  be  brought 
into  proportion  with  it.  For  it  is  eminently  charac- 
teristic of  absolute  truth  that  it  can  be  adapted  to  the 
relative  exigencies  of  life.  It  loses  nothing  thereby  ; 
and  we   gain  infinitely.     It  may  happen — it  often 


CONCERNING  THE  INTELLECT  85 

does  happen — that  we  are  misled ;  that  while  intent 
upon  truth,  we  snatch  headlong  at  error.  Even  so, 
truth  is  in  nowise  injured,  if  it  be  practical  truth, 
since  what  we  have  been  led  to  do,  mistakenly,  has 
been  done  in  truth's  name,  and  with  its  service  in 
view. 

For  truth  is  not  infallibly  revealed  to  us,  whether 
we  regard  it  from  the  speculative  or  practical  stand- 
point. Its  infallibility  may  be  our  aspiration,  whether 
we  seek  merely  to  locate  it  or  possess  it ;  but  we 
shall  attain  thereto  by  degrees  only,  by  laborious 
stepping-stones,  after  repeated  rebuffs,  and  effort 
incessantly  renewed.  Hence,  the  prominent  part 
allotted  to  meditative  reflection.  It  does  not  suffice 
to  be  aware,  generally,  of  the  demands  truth  makes 
on  our  moral  existence.  We  have,  personally,  to 
ascertain  how  best  to  conform  to  these  demands — 
having  before  us  the  special  conditions  in  which  we 
live,  the  environment  in  which  we  are  set,  our  pre- 
disposition to  this  or  that  propensity,  our  hereditary 
tendencies,  our  age  and  bodily  capacity,  our  tastes 
or  profession.  If  truth  is  to  attain  to  empire,  if  we 
are  to  exhibit  the  true  Christian  characteristics,  we 
have,  necessarily,  to  undergo  this  process  of  mental 
dissection;  we  have  to  make  ourselves  acquainted 
with  natural  science  as  applied  to  our  special  case ; 
to  determine  the  exact  relations  of  its  various 
phenomena;  to  estimate  their  reciprocal  influence, 
and  state  of  dependence  on  external  or  internal  sug- 
gestion. And  all  this  can  be  achieved  by  reflection, 
and  by  the  exercise  of  a  keen  and  subtle  observa- 
tion. By  constant  introspection,  we  are  able  to 
induce  motives  from  which  the  higher  passions  get 


84    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

their  being;  and  these  we  have  to  devote  to  the 
fostering  of  the  Christian  idea,  and  thence  to  the 
conversion  of  these  abstract  ideas  into  sensible 
virtues.  As  our  instructor,  reflection  will  teach  us 
the  technique  of  our  instrument,  how  to  play  upon 
it,  how  to  renew  the  melodies,  to  complete  the 
harmonies,  to  increase  or  diminish  the  tone  as  our 
nature  shall  surrender  itself  to,  or  withstand  the 
active  operations  of  grace.  By  reflection,  in  a  word, 
we  can  be  transfigured  into  beings  of  "  character," 
knowing  the  Way  and  pursuing  it,  in  full  possession 
of  self,  because  self  is  indwelt  by  Divine  Truth. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  RELATIONS  OF  GRACE  TO  THE  PASSIONS 

We  have  arrived  so  far  in  our  inquiry.  We  have 
seen  that  there  are  three  elements,  very  unlike,  yet 
all  essential  to  the  education  of  character :  these  are 
the  intelligence,  the  will,  and  the  passions. 

The  intelligence  shows  us  the  goal  to  be  reached, 
the  ideal  to  be  realised.  Independently,  the  will 
strains  after  this  ideal,  but  lacks  the  strength  to 
enforce  its  sway  over  the  entire  domain  of  our  sen- 
sitive nature.  For  there  rages  within  this  domain, 
as  the  result  of  sin's  incursion,  a  terrible  tumult. 
The  disparity  existing  between  the  Christian  ideal, 
and  the  emotions  stirred  into  activity  by  the  breeze 
of  passion,  is  great,  and  yields  to  influence  but 
slowly,  and,  as  it  were,  by  constraint.  By  this,  I  do 
not  imply  that  the  will  is  wholly  impotent  to  stem 
the 'onrush  of  passion,  if  it  but  prove  alert  on  the 
track — not  of  the  multitude,  but  of  the  isolated 
offender — else  our  liberty  were  destroyed  at  its 
very  roots.  Nevertheless,  we  have  to  realise  that 
the  labour  involved  is  neither  slight  nor  easy,  and 
successfully  to  fulfil  our  task  we  must  exert  a  care- 
ful discretion.  Our  passions,  as  we  have  seen,  are 
the  spontaneous  and  violent  manifestations  of  our 
sensitive  organism,  engendered  by  various  hered- 
itary or  acquired  tendencies,  and  encouraged   by 

85 


86    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

the  play  of  the  senses,  imagination,  or  ideas.  Were 
not  our  control  over  our  ideas  and  sensitive  percep- 
tions infinitely  superior  to  that  possessed  over 
inherent  instinct,  inclining  us  to  this  or  that  specific 
passion,  then  wholly  futile  would  it  be  to  struggle 
after  morality.  But,  it  is  a  fact,  happily,  that  we  are 
able  to  direct  our  sensations,  and  the  trend  of  our 
imaginative  faculties,  into  divers  channels,  as  we 
are  aided  thereto  by  the  psychological  laws  touching 
association  and  atmosphere.  Hence,  we  are  able 
directly  to  divert  the  passions  at  their  source,  and 
so  determine  their  output  and  disposition.  It  rests 
thenceforward  with  discretion,  the  offspring  of 
reflection,  to  inculcate  some  idea,  relatively  insigni- 
ficant it  may  be,  but  capable  of  transforming  mere 
passion  into  lofty  and  inspired  sentiment. 

A  multiplicity  of  kindred  links  are  forged  by  this 
process  of  reflection  when  illuminated  by  the  Chris- 
tian ideal ;  and,  in  so  far  as  the  passions  cohere  to 
this  ideal,  so,  simultaneously,  the  half-won  allegi- 
ance of  the  will  is  confirmed  an  hundredfold.  By 
contact  with  the  passions,  Christian  sentiments  are 
strengthened;  correspondingly,  the  passions  become 
spiritualised  and  chastened  in  the  mutual  encounter. 
By  such  an  exchange  of  light  and  force  there  is 
established  within  us  that  moral  equilibrium  upon 
which  the  development  of  character  so  conspicu- 
ously depends.  From  the  moral  standpoint,  we  find 
presented  other  considerations  that  call  for  notice. 
I  will  endeavour,  therefore,  at  this  juncture,  to 
recall  the  part  grace  is  destined  to  play  over  the 
passions  in  relation  to  the  education  of  character. 


RELATIONS  OF  GRACE  TO  THE  PASSIONS    87 

Nature  and  Grace. 

Let  me  once  more  lay  stress  upon  the  point  that 
the  human  ideal  and  the  Christian  ideal  are  prac- 
tically identical — that  the  Christian  ideal  is,  in  truth, 
but  the  human  ideal,  transposed,  perfected,  aug- 
mented with  a  Divine  accession  of  light  and  power, 
drawing  us  irresistibly  upwards  into  nearness  to  it. 
Naturally  considered,  our  intelligence  is  bestowed 
upon  us  that,  so  enlightened,  we  may,  by  unloosing 
the  directing  principles  of  conduct,  bring  about  the 
purifying  of  our  passions.  No  doubt  this  necessary 
preliminary  to  moral  conquest  is  not  easy  of  achieve- 
ment. For  the  passions,  like  all  instinctive  forces, 
are  frequently  refractory  to  light ;  and  the  most 
earnest  and  exemplary  of  moral  seekers  are  con- 
strained to  admit  that,  in  spite  of  high  principle,  and 
their  painful  striving  after  its  true  perception,  they 
are,  at  certain  moments,  and  when  the  fight  is  at  its 
height,  blinded  by  the  furious  onrush  of  the  senses, 
encumbering  their  path,  without  pause  or  respite. 
In  moments  of  extremity  like  these,  we  may  be  com- 
pared to  certain  travellers,  who  have  determined 
upon  returning,  at  nightfall,  along  a  difficult  track 
previously  traversed  in  daylight.  They  are  not 
unacquainted  with  the  route — indeed,  all  its  various 
stages  are  imprinted  upon  their  memories ;  they  are 
aware  that  at  this  point  there  is  a  precipice  to  be 
avoided — at  another,  a  milestone  to  be  consulted. 
Nevertheless,  they  find  that  the  deepening  gloom 
will  deceive  even  eyes  that  are  keen  and  accustomed 
to  the  darkness.  The  thick  veil  of  night  spreads 
itself  over  all  that  surrounds  them  ;  hides  from  their 


88    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

vigilance  the  yawning  abyss,  and  wipes  out  from 
view  the  guiding  landmarks.  Thus  disabled,  these 
travellers,  if  they  be  prudent,  have  no  other  alterna- 
tive than  to  go  back  the  way  they  came,  or  else 
secure  some  means  of  lighting  their  journey.  Now, 
in  our  case,  whenever  it  falls  to  us  to  pursue  the 
path  of  duty  amid  the  obscuring  darkness  of  our 
passions,  there  can  be  no  question  of  retracing  our 
steps,  since  we  are  compelled  ever  to  advance. 
Our  only  safe  course  is  to  seek  out  for  guidance  the 
pure  light  of  natural  principle,  as  we  may  find  it 
best  adapted  to  our  peculiar  needs.  But  we  resem- 
ble in  our  weakness  and  lack  of  resistance,  a  fragile 
morsel  of  porcelain,  and  this  light,  by  which  we 
are  to  find  life,  is  constantly  at  the  mercy  of  the 
rude  winds.  So  that,  at  times,  the  slender  flame 
will  be  seen  to  burn  unsteadily,  to  flicker,  and,  per- 
chance, to  go  out. 

Faith. — When  this  happens,  what  were  likely  to 
befall  us,  were  not  the  Divine  light  cast  by  Faith 
given  us  for  our  assistance?  For  this  light,  en- 
kindled from  above,  is  not  extinguished  in  an 
instant.  God  only  asks  of  us  goodwill,  and  given 
that,  we  are  abidingly  illumined. 

And  what  do  we  perceive  by  the  light  of  Faith  ? 
Assuredly,  our  eyes  are  not  ready,  as  yet,  for  the  full 
glory  of  the  day,  with  its  majesty  of  the  sun  radi- 
ating light ;  neither  are  we  left  to  grope  farther  in 
the  darkness  of  night.  Faith  soars  above  the  sun 
of  Reason  that  occasionally  suffers  eclipse,  and 
often  disappears  behind  the  cloud  of  passion-fed 
emotion.  Faith  is  the  bright  ever-twinkling  star 
that  casts  its  tiny  light  full  on  the  way  of  life ;  shows 


RELATIONS  OF  GRACE  TO  THE  PASSIONS    89 

in  relief  the  moral  laws  incumbent  upon  man ;  warns 
him  of  the  precipices  that  have  to  be  bridged,  the 
turnings  to  be  taken,  the  examples  to  be  followed ; 
displays  the  depth  of  his  weakness,  and  indicates 
the  measure  of  his  strength.     How  penetrating  is 
this  light  bestowed  by  Faith,  when  we  have  once 
consented  to  expose  our  being  to  its  rays !    At  the 
outset,  truly,  it  would  seem  as  if  its  radiance  cannot 
attain  to  us,  as  if  we  must  ever  remain  oppressed 
by  the  presence  of  night;  but,  little  by  little,  the 
eye  of  the  soul   adapts    itself   to  these  spiritual 
shadows ;  then  fastens  its  gaze  on  the  star  of  Faith 
to  follow  whither  it  shall  lead.     And  where  indeed 
shall  it  lead  us?    No  longer  into  the  abstract  by- 
ways of- philosophy,  but  into  the  actual  regions  of 
the  Christian  life.    As  formerly  with  the  Magi,  it 
conducts  us  to  the  Crib,  that  there  we  may  contem- 
plate the  ideal  of  the  Christian  made  incarnate  in 
the  person  of  the  Son  of  God.    Thence  we  are  shown 
the  path  by  which  Christ  Himself  elected  to  travel, 
and  along  which  He  commands  us  to  follow  Him  ; 
we  witness  our  Lord's  combat  with  the  passions ; 
and  we  behold  Him  obedient  to  the  Will  of  His 
Father  even  unto  death.    And  so,  when  the  Saviour 
has  ascended  into  Heaven,  still  we  see  the  star  of 
Faith  continues  to  shine ;  it  reveals  to  us  the  saints 
— those  living  exemplars  of  Jesus  Christ ;  it  pene- 
trates to  the  uttermost  recesses  of  our  conscience, 
and  dispels  the   misunderstandings,  the  inconsist- 
encies, the  pettinesses  that  are  in  possession  there. 
For  by  Faith  are  we  urged  to  reflection,  to  a  self- 
knowledge,  that  has  no  mercy  on  our  blindness  or 
our  infirmity.     By  Faith — and  this  is  its  mightiest 


90    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

weapon — we  are  taught  that  whereas,  through  sin, 
without  God  we  can  do  nothing ;  with  God,  on  the 
contrary,  we  can  achieve  all.  Divine  light  calls 
forth  Divine  strength  ;  charity  is  synonymous  with 
Faith.  Having  Faith,  we  are  made  aware,  infallibly, 
and  lastingly,  of  what  we  must  and  can  do :  having 
charity  we  are  given  the  power  to  do  it.     How  so  ? 

Charity. — When  St.  Paul  was  driven  to  lament 
that  he  was  beset  by  the  violence  of  his  passions, 
being,  as  he  alleged,  buffeted  by  Satan,  God  made 
answer  to  him  :  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee."* 

In  truth,  God's  grace  is  sufficient  for  us  all !  For 
grace  is  God,  in  so  far  as  we  entertain  Him ;  grace 
is  the  Divine  activity  enveloping,  while  not  destroy- 
ing ours,  with  its  infinite  energies;  grace  is  the 
Hand  of  the  all-powerful  Friend  laying  hold  of  ours, 
and  so  aiding  us  to  attain  to  Him.  And  if  God  be 
with  us,  who  shall  be  against  us  ?  Hearken  to  this 
noble  challenge  uttered  by  St.  Paul :  "  Who  shall 
separate  me  from  the  charity  of  Christ  ?" 

Assuredly,  there  existed  no  power  in  the  world, 
neither  in  the  heavens,  nor  upon  the  earth,  capable 
of  separating  the  Apostle  from  his  Master.  For  his 
will  was  one  with  the  Divine  Will ;  and  partook  of 
its  omnipotence,  and  shared  in  its  infinite  forces. 
So,  too,  shall  it  be  with  us,  if  we  but  desire  it.  It 
is  expedient,  however,  that  we  take  heed  while  we 
avail  ourselves  of  God's  force,  in  order  to  attain  to 
the  Christian  ideal,  we  are  not  thereby  dispensed 
from  drawing  as  well  upon  the  force  supplied  by 
the  passions,  when  properly  directed.  It  is  God's 
Will  that  we  should  act  as  though  His  presence  were 

♦  Cf.  2  Cor.  xii.  7-9  (Trans.). 


RELATIONS  OF  GRACE  TO  THE  PASSIONS    91 

withheld  from  us,  albeit  that  this  Divine  gift  is  con- 
ferred on  us  always.  He  permits  His  grace  to 
work  upon  our  nature,  while,  at  the  same  time.  He 
ordains  that  our  nature  shall  act  in  concert  with 
grace.  He  lends  us  supernatural  aids,  but,  at  the 
same  time.  He  does  not  intend  that  these  shall 
wholly  supersede  natural  ones. 

When  we  have  done  all  that  is  possible,  in  nature, 
in  order  to  discipline  our  passions,  then  there  is 
the  consolation  bestowed  that  we  are  not  called 
upon  to  labour  unaided  at  this  ungrateful  task. 
God  is  with  us.  He  acts  in  us;  we  move  but 
through  Him. 

It  seems  to  me  that  this  consciousness  of  the 
presence  of  God  within  us,  this  assurance  of  the 
real  support  He  grants  us  in  our  interior  conflict, 
must  suffice  to  lend  courage  to  the  most  faint-hearted 
amongst  us. 

How  efficacious  is  the  example  of  a  virtuous  friend 
when  we  are  on  the  verge  of  falling  into  some  sin ! 
Yet  this  kind  of  support  is  derived  from  without, 
and  its  confines  reach  but  the  threshold  of  our 
conscience.  How  then  shall  it  be  when  God  is  with 
us  and  within  us,  encouraging  us  in  all  circum- 
stances— can  we  then  lack  confidence  that  victory 
lies  within  our  grasp,  that  the  reform  of  character, 
the  conquest  of  self,  our  entire  supremacy,  in  a 
word,  over  moral  life,  is  a  foregone  conclusion  ? 
To  doubt  this,  for  one  instant,  were  the  very 
essence  of  cowardice;  for — I  repeat  it — if  God  be 
with  us,  who  shall  be  against  us  ? 


CHAPTER  V 

EGOISM  AND  ALTRUISM 

The  realm  of  passion  is  a  turbulent  realm  that,  left 
to  itself,  obeys  no  law.  Our  divers  passions,  like  so 
many  eccentric  comets,  would  appear  to  revolve  at 
random,  and  without  reference  to  their  neighbours. 
But  this  is  simply  an  optical  illusion.  In  reality,  our 
passions  may  be  expressed  in  terms  of  one  of  their 
number,  towards  which  the  rest  perpetually  gravi- 
tate as  the  centre  of  attraction.  I  mean  the  passion 
of  egoism.  There  is  hardly  a  word  in  our  vocabulary 
so  ill-sounding  as  this  one,  and  such  is  the  influence 
of  words  on  the  direction  of  thought,  that  it  has 
become  difficult  to  differentiate  between  egoism  and 
egoism,  and  to  admit  that  it  is  possible  to  be  egoistic 
in  a  favourable  sense.  Can,  then,  this  term  be 
interpreted  favourably  as  well  as  unfavourably  ? 
Yes,  indeed,  for  by  the  side  of  an  egoism  that  is 
detestable,  there  exists  an  egoism  that  is  lovable ; 
alongside  of  the  egoism  that  is  an  evil  passion, 
there  may  be  set  an  egoism  that  is  a  virtue, 
and  which  is  just  an  intelhgent  transposition  of  the 
first.  Why,  it  may  be  asked,  is  passionate  egoism 
a  detestable  quality  ?  Because  all  that  which  moves 
but  to  draw  things  unto  itself,  which  views  persons 
and  things  from  the  restricted  standpoint  of  its  own 
caprices,  which  appreciates  the  world  in  the  measure 

92 


EGOISM  AND  ALTRUISM  95 

alone  of  self-advancement,  is  detestable  in  the  last 
degree.  Whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  virtuous  egoism 
is  worthy  of  love,  because,  in  spite  of  appearances,  it 
is  generous,  and  the  basis  of  all  disinterested  action. 
In  drawing  this  comparison,  let  it  not  be  imagined 
that  I  am  straining  after  a  paradox.  The  paradox, 
if  there  be  one,  is  contained  in  the  words,  not  in  the 
ideas  propounded.     I  will  try  to  explain  myself. 

I.  Passionate  Egoism. 

In  the  first  place,  we  have  to  remember  that  we 
have  a  dual  existence  :  an  animal  self  and  a  reason- 
ing self,  a  carnal  self  and  a  spiritual  self.  Both 
appertain  to  our  actual  personality,  and  from  ^their 
co-existence  our  nature  draws  its  true  origin.  It 
does  not  suffice  to  say  these  selves  exist — we  must 
go  farther — rather,  they  are  incorporate,  they  are 
made  one,  in  the  inviolable  unity  of  the  conscious- 
ness, or  ego.  So,  in  common,  they  solicit  our 
affection,  while  their  claim  to  it  is  not  identical. 
For  the  animal  within  us  is  under  the  domination 
of  Self,  and  the  flesh  is  subservient  to  the  lawful 
sway  of  the  Spirit.  Hence,  the  diversity  just 
indicated  between  passionate  egoism  and  virtuous 
egoism.  When  we  yield  to  the  passion  of  egoism 
we  foster  the  animal  self — the  brute  I.  We  allow 
no  other  horizon  to  our  desire  than  pleasure,  pure 
and  simple,  in  whatever  form,  however  base  and 
degraded.  When,  on  the  contrary,  we  cultivate  the 
virtue  of  egoism  we  promote  the  reasoning  Self, 
the  real  human  I ;  we  carve  out  from  the  shapeless 
block  of  our  moral  energies  the  living  statue  of  a 
man — of  the  man  of  character^  who  exalts  himself 


94    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

above  the  beast,  and  from  a  thing  gradually  evolves 
into  a  personality. 

Of  these  two  forms  of  egoism,  which,  can  it  be 
said,  is  peculiar  to  youth  ?  Experience  best  answers 
this  question.  We  are  aware,  through  experience, 
that  a  youth  has  passions  before  he  is  able  to  attain 
to  the  acquisition  of  virtue.  For  to  be  possessed 
by  the  passions,  he  has  merely  to  give  ear  to  the 
impulses  of  his  senses ;  whereas  virtue  is  won  but 
by  the  conscious  and  persistent  intervention  of  his 
volition.  Virtue,  without  doubt,  has  for  its  object 
the  elevation  and  purification  of  the  passions ;  and 
this  being  so,  is  an  added  proof  that  the  passions 
have  a  certain  priority  over  virtue.  Hence  the 
conclusion,  that  a  young  man,  in  virtue  of  his  youth, 
and  because  time  has  not  been  given  him  for  the 
conversion  of  his  passions  into  virtue,  is  prone  to 
the  passion  of  egoism,  which,  as  we  have  seen, 
contains  the  germs  of  every  other  passion. 

Yet  youth  is,  by  reputation,  generous.  How, 
then,  are  we  to  reconcile  generosity  with  this 
quality  of  egoism  ?  Youth,  it  is  true,  does  appear 
to  exhibit  generosity,  of  a  sort,  but,  in  many  respects, 
this  attractive  quality  exists  in  appearance  rather 
than  in  reality.  If  egoism  assumes  at  times  this 
aspect  of  generosity,  it  is  due  to  the  deceptive  charm 
youth  invests  it  with,  by  reason  of  its  infectious 
enthusiasm  for  life,  and  its  exuberant  manifestation 
of  that  enthusiasm.  Like  all  vital  force  in  the 
intense  degree,  egoism  is  subject  to  a  double  move- 
ment :  that  exercised  by  centrifugal  force,  by  virtue 
of  which  it  battens  and  grows  fat  upon  the  world 
outside  of  it ;  and  second,  that  of  centripetal  force. 


EGOISM  AND  ALTRUISM  95 

whereby  it  tends  to  draw  all  things  unto  itself.  In 
this  the  impassioned  egoist  is  analogous  to  the 
octopus,  that  stretches  out  its  tentacles  in  order  to 
seize  its  prey,  and  contracts  them  to  feed  upon  it. 
And  both  these  movements  are  but  two  phases  of 
the  same  passion.  A  young  man,  precisely  by 
reason  of  his  youth,  has  not  yet  made  his  survey  of 
life.  His  intelligence,  his  heart  and  sensibility,  are 
all  untried  faculties  demanding  contact  with  actuality 
in  order  to  feed  upon  it,  and  so  satiate  their  appetite. 
Youth  is  ready  for  every  experience,  and  pounces 
greedily  upon  every  chance  sensation.  It  needs  to 
feel,  to  feel  intensely,  and  its  sensitive  organism,  like 
the  strings  of  a  harp,  responds  to  the  lightest  touch, 
and  so  produces  wondrous  harmonies.  Because  there 
is  something  seductive  in  the  fire  and  spontaneity  of 
youth,  its  contemplation  at  times  misleads  the  super- 
ficial onlooker.  Young  men  will  often  appear  to  give^ 
when,  unconsciously  to  themselves  even,  their  sole 
aim  is  to  take :  they  seem  utterly  detached  from  self, 
when — and  quite  naturally — they  but  seek  to  attach 
others  to  themselves.  Thus  does  the  passion  of 
egoism,  in  youth,  readily  don  the  mask  of  generosity. 
It  is  somewhat  as  with  a  person  who,  stricken  with 
blindness,  has  recently  undergone  an  operation  for 
cataract.  In  default  of  experience,  based  on  observa- 
tion, all  that  the  young  gaze  upon  seems  to  stand  in 
the  same  proportion ;  they  have  yet  to  acquire  that 
knowledge  of  perspective  which,  later,  when  life's 
obstacles  have  to  be  confronted,  will  enable  them 
properly  to  estimate  values,  and  so  to  establish  a 
hierarchy  over  the  things  of  their  desire.  Are  we 
to  blame  them  ?    Certainly  not,  for  to  do  so  were  to 


96   THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

condemn  their  youth.  It  were  well,  indeed,  to  give 
warning  that  youth  must  not  outstay  its  destined 
term ;  it  were  well  to  show  that  egoism  as  revealed 
in  the  young  may,  transmuted,  become  virtue  if  all 
thought  and  action  are  directed  to,  and  serve,  the 
ideal  set  for  the  attainment  of  the  upright  Christian. 

II.  Virtuous  Egoism. 

Now  let  us  find  out  the  best  means  of  arriving  at 
this  conversion. 

Those  passions  that  urge  us  to  seek  satisfaction 
in  animal  gratification  must  be  linked  to  that  desire 
— often  futile,  yet  none  the  less  genuine  and  pure — 
which  most  of  us  cherish  after  a  higher  plane  of 
existence.  Every  being,  unless  he  be  hopelessly 
degenerate  from  birth,  has  the  ambition  to  achieve 
something,  to  enlarge  his  course  of  life,  to  widen 
indefinitely  his  horizon.  And  how  shall  he  achieve 
anything,  unless  he  strives  to  actualise  in  himself 
an  elevated  ideal;  how  enlarge  his  human  nature, 
unless  he  attain  supremacy  over  its  animal  side; 
how  secure  for  his  soul's  expansion  a  wider  horizon 
than  that  which  the  Christian  life  stretches  infinite, 
and  immeasurable,  before  him  ? 

We  have  passions  that  crave  utterance,  we  thirst 
after  life,  we  yearn  to  increase  our  stature  by  an 
arm's  length  or  more.  Let  it  be  so.  We  are  in  no- 
wise called  upon  to  stifle  our  passions  in  the  bud, 
to  annihilate  every  egoistic  manifestation.  Let  us 
love  self  with  all  our  force,  but  let  our  love  befit  its 
object.  We  are  told  that  charity,  well  ordered,  be- 
gins at  home.  Let  us  then  love  in  ourselves  all  that 
exalts,  and  not  all  that  debases;  let  us  love  duty, 


EGOISM  AND  ALTRUISM  97 

and  not  pleasure ;  let  us  submit  self  to  the  yoke  of 
reason  and  faith,  and  not  to  the  tyranny  of  the  flesh. 
We  must  not  drift  with  the  tide,  we  must  endeavour 
to  stem  it ;  we  must  not  allow  ourselves  to  sink  into 
the  muddy  stream  of  sensuality,  we  must  plunge 
manfully  into  the  deep  river  of  virtue.  If  we  would 
rise  to  the  surface,  there  will,  no  doubt,  be  difficul- 
ties innumerable  to  overcome,  and  our  muscles  will 
have  to  stand  a  rude  test.  But  sport  like  this  is 
well  worth  the  effort.  We  can  bring  our  spiritual 
muscles  into  play,  and  so  utilise  those  faculties  that, 
rightly  exercised,  bring  within  our  grasp  the  fine 
reward  of  sound  and  moral  habits. 

It  is  these  same  moral  habits,  otherwise  named 
virtue,  that  are,  in  fact,  to  the  soul  what  vigorous 
muscles  -are  to  the  body.  The  more  the  soul  aims 
at  the  strengthening  and  developing  of  these,  the 
more  sure  are  the  chances  of  safety. 

III.  False  Solidarity. 

"  Charity,  well-ordered,  begins  at  home."  When 
I  quoted,  in  an  earlier  column,  this  first  principle  of 
the  Christian  life,  I  confined  myself  to  pointing  out 
that  the  best  way  of  loving  our  fellows  is  to  com- 
mence by  rightly  loving  self.  For  what,  actually, 
fosters  unsociability,  and  confines  us  to  the  sphere 
of  self-interest  to  the  cost  of  solidarity?  Why, 
surely,  self-love — that  is  to  say,  the  species  of  self- 
love  that  circles  round  the  animal  self,  the  mere 
brute  Ego.  Whenever  personal  gratification  repre- 
sents the  limit  of  our  moral  horizon,  it  follows  quite 
logically  that  others  are  created  but  to  pander  to 
that  gratification,  to  serve  us,  rather  than  that  we 

7 


98    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

should  serve  them ;  to  bestow  rather  than  that  we 
should  give.  And,  yet,  there  exist  individuals  who 
still  prattle  of  solidarity  in  this  very  connection. 
It  is,  then,  a  counterfeit  solidarity  having  its 
charlatans,  as  the  true  solidarity  has  its  disciples. 
Its  final  goal  is  not  to  complete  the  man  in  us, 
but  to  satisfy  the  animal ;  its  ideal  is  in  nowise  to 
love  our  fellows  for  their  sake,  but  to  love  them  for 
our  own. 

It  is  the  inevitable  outcome  of  their  egoistic 
standpoint,  that,  in  youth,  men  are  led  to  confound 
this  spurious  solidarity  with  the  real  thing;  to  mis- 
take for  altruism  what  is,  in  truth,  at  bottom,  egoism 
pure  and  simple ;  to  imagine  that  mere  neighbourly 
proximity  is  synonymous  with  the  fusion  of  souls. 
We  have  to  dispel  this  illusion  as  speedily  as  maybe, 
by  demonstrating  the  vast  gulf  that  exists  between 
exterior  "comradeship,"  and  the  interior  "friend- 
ship," of  that  single-minded  solidarity  as  we  Chris- 
tians conceive  of  it. 

One  of  the  chief  obstacles,  as  one  of  the  main 
resources  of  student  life — all  depends  on  the  point  oi 
view  entertained — is,  precisely,  the  life  in  common. 
In  every  University  it  happens  that  certain  young 
men  are  brought  into  mutual  association.  But  there 
are  different  kinds  of  association.  There  is  a 
species  of  official  association,  furthered  by  influences 
of  race,  language,  education,  ideas,  and  so  forth. 

In  this  regard  I  have  nothing  to  say,  since  it  is 
entirely  advantageous,  and,  rightly  pursued,  acts  as 
an  individual  stimulus.  There  is,  however,  another 
kind  of  association  of  an  unofficial  nature  as  to 
which  I  am  less  confident,  when  I  take  into  con- 


EGOISM  AND  ALTRUISM  99 

sideration  the  reasons  actuating  it.  A  young  man 
enters  the  University.  His  first  impression,  on 
arrival  there,  is,  that  he  is  out  of  his  element. 
Instinctively,  he  thereupon  seeks  out  amid  the  fresh 
faces  that  he  scans  some  kindred  spirit.  He  in- 
variably finds  one — more  than  one — even  in  this 
land  of  exile,  for  this  very  desire  of  his  begets  them. 
Thence  he  is  launched,  on  the  instant,  into  a  circle 
of  associates  whose  tastes,  manners,  and  mode  of 
life  are,  in  a  way,  imposed  upon  him.  These  may, 
possibly,  be  all  that  is  desirable  and  becoming ;  so 
much  the  better.  But  if  the  reverse  be  the  case — 
what  then  ?  Occasionally,  this  happens,  and  so  the 
student  finds  himself  surrounded,  under  the  guise  of 
friends,  by  his  enemies.  This  lad  is,  maybe,  simple- 
minde'd — as  many  are  at  twenty  years  of  age — a 
trifle  vain,  and  easily  influenced.  What  follows,  in- 
evitably ?  His  vanity  makes  him  at  once  the  slave 
of  public  opinion — of  opinion,  that  is,  as  entertained 
by  his  "emancipated"  fellows,  whose  numbers  he 
helps  to  swell.  And  he  is,  henceforth,  eminently 
the  slave  of  the  worst  among  these — of  those,  most 
generally,  whose  vicious  qualities  give  them  ascend- 
ancy over  the  shallow  and  feeble-minded — who 
govern  in  virtue  of  their  overpowering  swagger, 
their  air  of  confidence,  their  oratorical  tirades  against 
"  priggishness  "  and  "  sanctimonious  "  observance. 

Little  by  little,  such  evil  example  makes  way,  the 
conscience  suffers  a  species  of  cauterisation,  and  at 
last,  accepts  blindly,  as  the  ideal  life — the  unique  life 
for  the  self-respecting  student — a  mode  of  existence 
more  stupid,  enervating,  and  void  than  can  be  easily 
conceived  by  the  imagination.     If   intermittently 


100       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

his  conscience  awakens,  and  flames  up  like  a  par- 
tially extinct  volcano,  he  forthwith  stifles  it.  His 
tastes  may  perchance  not  lie  in  the  direction  of  vice, 
but  he  yields,  none  the  less,  in  deference  to  those  of 
his  associates  whom  he  admires,  or  who  intimidate 
him  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  becomes  their  servile 
imitator ;  so  that,  ultimately,  his  intellect,  spirit,  and 
even  physical  health  are  given  over  to  them. 

Is  this  a  solidarity  that  becomes — I  will  not  say 
the  Christian — but  the  upright  man?  I  know,  of 
course,  that  this  state  of  affairs  is  not,  thank  God, 
typical  of  every  student  environment,  as  a  whole,  or 
of  the  individual  student  either,  who  through  ill- 
luck  has  been  drawn  into  it.  But  at  least,  there  are 
a  vast  number  of  students  who,  arriving  at  a  Univer- 
sity with  the  express  purpose  of  enlarging  their 
mental  and  spiritual  outlook,  are  forthwith  subjected 
to  the  contrary  and  restricting  process.  It  seems 
justifiable,  then,  to  attempt  a  warning.  "  To  shine, 
as  young  men,  who  lead  a  life  of  pleasure,  desire  to 
shine,"  wrote  Lord  Chesterfield  to  his  son,  "  is  to 
shine  like  a  decaying  forest  in  the  darkness,"* 

I  sincerely  wish  to  make  all  allowance  for  the 
weakness  and  inherent  defects  of  our  complex  and 
fallen  nature.  The  great  majority  of  young  men 
who  lead  a  life  of  pleasure,  do  so  just  because  they 
lack  proper  direction.  They  are  drawn,  heedless, 
into  the  vortex,  by  exterior  circumstances  ;  they  are, 
too  often,  the  victims  of  an  unhealthy,  or,  at  least, 
superficial  method  of  upbringing.  As  for  the  "  well- 
bred  "  student,  who  goes  astray  with  the  rest,  he, 

♦  "  Lord   Chesterfield's    Letters   to  his  Son,"   September  to 
October,  1748. 


EGOISM  AND  ALTRUISM  101 

too,  at  the  outset,  is  probably  entirely  unsuspicious 
of  harm.  If  he  be  intelligent,  however,  he  is  bound 
speedily  to  discover  his  error,  to  estimate  at  their 
right  value  the  influences  that  encompass  him,  and 
when  at  last  he  does  accurately  fathom  these,  surely, 
then — noblesse  oblige!  If  my  companions  foster 
notions  that  are  as  injurious,  as  they  are  senseless, 
am  I  bound  to  submit  my  better  judgment  to  theirs ; 
to  sacrifice  my  freedom,  my  health,  my  glad  delight 
in  work,  and  the  "good  life,"  merely  that  I  may 
avoid  their  sarcasms,  or  win  their  admiration  ? 

Why  is  it  that  amongst  all  these  intelligent 
defaulters  there  are  to  be  found  so  few  who  dare  to 
maintain  their  independence,  to  stand  firm  against 
silly  suggestions,  to  exchange  for  this  life  of  empty 
pleasure  that  of  real  and  effectual  happiness  ?  It  is 
because  for  this  there  is  effort  entailed ;  the  stout 
wall  of  prejudice  has  to  be  attacked  with  a  vigorous 
stroke  from  the  shoulder,  and  the  passion  of  egoism, 
not,  as  yet,  become  virtue,  renders  our  muscles  inert 
and  unequal  to  the  effort  demanded.  It  is  so  much 
easier  to  take  refuge  behind  make-belief,  to  imagine 
that  one  is  giving  oneself  to  one's  friends,  when  one 
is  actually  taking  from  these  all  that  is  evil.  So  long 
as  the  shell  appears  to  hold,  why  worry  about  the 
interior?  So  long  as  we  have  the  semblance  of  life, 
of  what  moment  is  it  if,  by  contact,  we  are  incurring 
a  moral  death  ? 

I  see  but  one  remedy  for  this  situation:  it  is,  as  I 
have  said,  to  convert  passionate  egoism  into  virtuous 
egoism — into  that  well-ordered  charity  which  will 
save  us,  and  in  saving  us  will  also  ensure  the  sal- 
vation of  our  comrades. 


102       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 


IV.  True  Solidarity. 

We  must  acknowledge  that  by  the  side  of  this 
false  solidarity,  which  is  but  the  counterfeit  of 
egoism,  there  is  room  in  the  heart  of  the  young  for 
a  solidarity  that  is  sound  and  high-principled. 
Youth  is  the  age  for  the  formation  of  the  ideal 
friendship  whose  influence  extends  throughout  life. 
But  to  interpret  rightly  friendship's  obligations,  to 
be  able  to  love  another  with  a  generous,  disinterested 
love,  it  is  first  expedient  that  a  young  man  entertain 
a  like  affection  towards  himself,  that  he  should  love 
self  with  generosity  and  disinterestedness  ;  in  other 
words,  that  he  subordinate  his  animal  self  to  his 
reasoning  self — the  brute  to  the  man. 

Human  Solidarity. — Between  individual  human 
good  and  social  human  good  there  is  no  kind  of  dis- 
cord, there  is  harmony.  Without  doubt,  social  good 
is  human  good,  affecting  humanity  at  large,  and  not 
the  individual  alone  ;  still  the  fact  remains  that  it  is 
human  good,  and  that  only.  It  is  an  ideal  in  its 
complete  realisation,  built  up  by  man;  it  is  the 
highest  happiness,  as  humanly  conceived.  All  self- 
>^.  development,  it  is  certain,  is  dependent  on,  and 
determined,  to  a  certain  degree,  by  our  relations 
towards  our  fellows.  All  mankind  are  inter- 
dependent. It  follows,  then,  that  self-love,  if  it  be 
reasonable,  if  it  lead  me  to  obey  the  dictates  of  my 
conscience,  if  it  tends  to  a  heartwhole  devotion  to 
duty — such  love  of  oneself  can  materially  contribute 
to  the  good  of  others.  So  that,  if  others  act  in  the 
same  way  as  myself,  if  they  are  faithful  to  their 
vocation  as  men,  social  welfare  is  secured,  and  we 


EGOISM  AND  ALTRUISM  lOB 

nearly  approach  to  the  construction  of  an  ideal 
society.  I  am,  then,  justified  in  asserting  that  self- 
love  is  not  incompatible  with  generosity,  that  it  is, 
indeed,  the  living  source  whence  springs  the 
sentiment  of  a  genuine  and  noble  solidarity. 

Nor  is  this  the  end.  Not  only  does  the  fact  of 
self-love,  humanly  pursued,  contribute  to  the 
happiness  of  others,  without  my  being  aware  even 
that  I  entertain  such  an  emotion  in  their  regard — 
but  if,  in  reality,  it  is  the  man  that  I  love  in  me,  and 
not  the  animal,  human  dignity,  and  not  the  vileness 
of  the  beast,  I  shall  inevitably  feel  sympathy  towards 
another  possessing  this  dignity  in  common  with 
myself;  his  image,  wherever  it  may  confront  me, 
must -naturally  excite  my  affection.  It  will  be  as 
though  I  encountered  myself,  incarnate  in  another. 
So  I  will  be  led  to  love  others  in  the  same  measure 
as  I  love  myself,  and  not  for  my  sake,  but  for  theirs 
— or,  better  still,  for  the  sake  of  the  human  ideal 
enveloping  us. 

Christian  Solidarity. — And  while  we  aspire  to  this 
elevated,  but  still  human  ideal,  we  must  not  forget 
that  above  this  ideal  there  soars  another  more 
austere  and  infinitely  perfected — the  ideal  set  for  us 
by  Christ  Himself.  Human  solidarity  bids  us  love 
our  brothers  as  ourselves,  by  reason  of  our  common 
humanity;  Christian  charity  decrees  that  we  love 
these  by  reason  of  the  divinity  in  which  we  alike 
participate.  Human  solidarity  demands  of  us  that 
we  help  others  to  realise  in  themselves  the  ideal  of 
the  upright  man ;  Christian  charity  imposes  on  us 
the  duty  of  aiding  others  to  become  not  manly 
alone,  but  God-like.     Once  more,  human  solidarity 


104       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

visualises  all  things  from  the  bounds  of  the  earthly 
horizon,  and  aims  at  the  victory  of  manhood ; 
Christian  charity  opens  up  for  us  the  heavenly 
horizon,  and  would  have  us,  through  this  human 
victory,  win  God  for  others,  and  for  ourselves. 

Surely,  these  ends  are  of  sufficient  moment  to 
release  any  well-intentioned  young  man  from  the 
galling  yoke  of  his  egoism.  Since,  after  all,  it  is  he 
who  is  concerned,  it  is  his  happiness  that  is  primarily 
in  the  balance — it  will  not  be  hard  for  him  to  trans- 
form his  egoism,  to  cement  to  this  high  ideal  every 
passion  and  feeling  urging  him  to  self-pursuit,  to 
press  these  into  the  service  of  his  desire,  his  love 
for  the  Divine  Good. 

Thus  will  he  become  the  nucleus  of  a  higher 
activity  towards  which  feebler  and  more  timid 
spirits  will  be  led  to  gravitate.  Not  casting  out 
one  of  these  from  the  sphere  of  his  charitable 
endeavour,  he  will,  none  the  less,  be  able  to  select 
and  discriminate;  to  form  worthy  friendships  and 
augment  the  circle  of  his  intimates.  His  own 
dictator,  he  is  able  to  dictate  to  others — not  by  the 
exertion  of  a  supremacy  asserting  itself  by  violence, 
and  so  exposing  itself  to  attack,  but  dominating 
rather,  by  that  power  of  attraction,  that  inevitably 
gains  adherents  in  virtue  of  the  charm  emanating 
from  it. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SENSUALITY 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  have  seen  that  it  is 
expedient  to  establish  a  distinction  between  the 
egoism  that  is  a  passion,  and  the  egoism  that  may 
lawfully  lay  claim  to  being  a  virtue.  We  have  fully 
inquired  into  the  respective  merits  or  demerits  of 
these  two  varieties :  and  the  choice  of  adoption 
lies  with  us. 

For  my  part,  and  with  the  sole  aim  of  facilitating 
this  choice,  I  desire  to  complete  this  second  portion 
of  my  work  with  an  analysis,  brief  but  thorough,  of 
one  of  the  forms,  the  most  disastrous  and  debasing, 
of  passionate  egoism.  It  is  sensuality — respecting 
which,  the  most  charitable  charge  that  can  be  made 
is,  that  it  endangers  social  life,  in  that  it  attacks  the 
vital  powers  of  the  individual.  I  will  endeavour,  in 
the  first  place,  to  point  out  its  nature  and  its  causes, 
and  in  this  way  make  manifest  its  fatal  effects. 
These  once  appreciated,  it  should  prove  an  easy 
task  to  indicate  the  remedies  incumbent  upon  every 
young  man,  who  respects  himself,  and  has  regard 
for  the  happiness  of  others. 

I.  Its  Nature. 
Old  men  are  wont   to  extol   the   days  of  their 
youth ;  they  lived,  it  would  seem,  in  the  golden  age, 
as  we  live  in  the  iron  age.    Laudator  temporis  acti. 

los 


106       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

I  have  this  advantage  over  the  veteran — if  advan- 
tage it  be — that  I  can  speak  but  of  my  own  time. 
And,  it  seems  to  me,  my  time  merits  praise  and 
blame  both.  Inasmuch  as  it  has  exalted  and  fur- 
thered humanitarian  sentiments  and  devotion  to 
one's  neighbour,  it  is  worthy  of  all  praise.  All 
mankind  would  appear  to  be  overridden  at  the 
present  time  by  the  great  incoming  tide  of  solidarity, 
and  thus  men  are  brought  into  closer  communion 
one  with  another.  Nevertheless,  by  one  of  those 
strange  anomalies,  by  which  the  surest  logic  is  put 
to  rout,  it  happens,  that  at  no  epoch,  has  the  cult  of 
individualism,  and  morbid  self-analysis,  so  flourished 
as  to-day.  Individualism  and  socialism — I  appre- 
hend, here,  socialism  in  its  widest  sense — are  clearly 
defined  as  the  two  poles  around  which  modern 
thought  circulates.  Hence,  that  state  of  unstable 
equilibrium  characteristic  of  all  contemporary  socie- 
ties. If  one  would  aim  at  the  spread  of  generous 
ideas  in  theory,  one  must  apply  oneself  to  their 
demonstration  in  practice.  Now,  in  practice,  the 
cult  of  individualism  is  merely  the  brutal  negation 
of  all  notions  of  solidarity  ;  for  morbid  self-analysis 
is  one  of  the  ills  that  must  surely  undermine  all 
effort  after  social  regeneration.  Wholly  inefficient 
are  the  lives  of  those  who,  instead  of  seeing  to  it 
that  they  exist  for  the  betterment  of  their  fellows, 
exist  but  to  watch  themselves. 

Youth,  in  particular,  is  a  prey  to  that  state  of  soul 
described  by  a  psychologist  of  discernment  and 
repute  as  "  emotional  egoism  " — one,  as  he  points 
out,  that  must  be  sedulously  guarded  against: 
"That  perilous  appetite  for  emotion,  that  greed  for 


SENSUALITY  107 

complicating  the  heart's  sensations  in  order  to  evoke 
some  new  thrill,  that  tendency  to  vivisect  the  soul, 
out  of  curiosity,  premature  satiety,  and  because  of 
the  incapacity  to  procure  from  life  any  fresh  or 
lasting  impression."* 

The  sensual  forms  in  which,  in  the  case  of  a  young 
man,  emotional  egoism  may  be  clothed,  are  number- 
less. Lacordaire,  in  alluding  to  the  effects  of  that 
which  he  styles  "The  depraved  sense,"  has  por- 
trayed "  Those  men,  who  in  the  flower  of  their  age, 
already  exhibit  the  ravages  of  time ;  who,  degenerate 
before  having  attained  the  full  birth  of  their  being, 
display  a  brow  that  is  prematurely  lined,  eyes  that 
are  vague  and  sunken,  lips  that  seem  powerless  to 
represent  goodness — they  drag  on,  under  a  sun 
hardly  risen,  a  worn-out  existence." t 

With  vice — more  than  anything  else — lies  the 
responsibility  of  wrecking  human  existence,  of 
reducing  it  to  the  condition  of  a  corpse. 

Vice,  in  its  many  phases,  has  its  origin  in  a 
ferocious  egoism.  In  yielding  to  his  depraved 
inclinations,  a  young  man  has,  in  the  beginning,  no 
idea  of  the  corruption  and  ruin  that  encompass  him, 
and  for  which  he  is  too  often  responsible.  Accus- 
tomed to  regarding  self  alone,  he  loses,  little  by 
little,  the  respect  of  persons,  and  tramples  over  all 
that  opposes  itself  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  appetite 
and  desires.  Occasionally,  he  imagines  that  he 
loves,  whereas  he  loves  himself  exclusively ;  amor- 
ous words  are  on  his  lips,  and  he,  already,  has  no 

*  Paul  Bourget,  preface  to  "  L'Accalmie,"  a  novel  by  Pierre 
Gerard.     (Francis  Laur,  Paris.) 
I  Lacordaire,  "  Conf .  de  Notre-Dame,"  1844,  22*  Conf. 


108       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

heart  to  love  with.  "  How  much  suffering  can  a 
man  of  this  disposition  inflict  on  others !  With 
what  haste  does  he  attach  and  detach  himself! 
How  incapable  he  is  of  giving  himself,  or  of  faith  in 
another  1"* 

I  will  not  waste  time  in  depicting  in  detail  the 
varied  forms  of  sensuality  as  generated  by  emotional 
egoism.  These  are  known  to  all,  and  the  literature 
of  to-day  abounds  in  their  description.  What  is 
supremely  important  is  to  inquire  into  the  causes 
of  vice,  the  effects  of  which  we  must  be  made  aware 
of  in  order  to  find  a  cure. 

n.  Causes  of  Sensuality. 

Personal  Causes. — The  first  is  not  difficult  to  trace: 
every  system  contains  the  seeds,  and  is  predes- 
tined to  suffer  from  the  ravages,  of  concupiscence, 
as  inherited  from  our  first  parents.  Here,  religion 
and  experience  are  united  in  bewailing  the  miseries 
of  the  soul  enchained  to  this  "  body  of  corruption." 
Though  it  may,  unhappily,  be  true  that  our  moral 
temperament  is,  unavoidably,  a  prey  to  it,  that  not 
one  amongst  us  can  escape  its  attack,  there  can  yet 
be  no  doubt  that  in  the  case  of  a  people  or  an 
individual,  sensuality  has  its  violent  and  its  more 
controlled  periods.  Respecting,  in  particular,  the 
crisis  of  youth :  "  Whenever  nature  awakens  in  a 
young  man  not  controlled  by  Christian  principle, 
there  occurs  within  him  a  wholesale  revolution  of 
his  physical  forces,  which  subject  him  to  what 
Father  Gratry  expressively  terms,  *  the  trial  by 
fire.'  SensuaHty  stirs  and  overwhelms  him;  the 
*  Paul  Bourget,  op.  cit. 


SENSUALITY  109 

heart  feels  a  hunger,  hitherto  unknown,  excited  by 
a  desire  that  is  at  times  vague,  at  others,  alarmingly 
insistent.  There  are  moments,  as  Bossuet  vigor- 
ously asserts,  when  a  human  being  feels  himself 
wholly  flesh.  Thought  abdicates  in  favour  of  the 
self-assertive  flesh ;  the  body  stifles  the  soul ;  the 
senses  overthrow  the  spirit,  and  its  interior  lamp  is 
extinguished — sometimes  for  the  moment  only — 
sometimes,  alas !  for  a  while — sometimes  never  to 
be  re-lit.  It  is  the  moral  sun  eclipsed  by  its  satel- 
lites, the  intelligence  by  the  body,  the  psychical  life 
by  the  physical  organism  made  to  minister  to  it."* 

Social  Causes. — This  crisis  as  it  occurs  in  youth, 
reflects,  in  its  sensual  manifestations,  the  ideas  of 
the  time  and  social  environment  that  witness  it. 
While  public  taste  persistently  stirs  up  the  mud 
that  is  the  main  constituent  of  our  nature;  while 
literature  in  its  divers  phases — fiction,  the  drama, 
the  daily  Press — helps  in  its  diffusion ;  while  the 
very  streets  assist  in  besmirching  the  passers-by 
with  their  scandalous  display  of  improper  posters, 
photographs,  picture-cards,  etc. ;  while  unbridled 
extravagance  sheds  thereon  the  rays  of  its  illusive 
light,  and  the  odour  of  its  artificial  perfumes ;  while, 
in  short,  so-called  right-minded  folk  shut  their  eyes 
on,  or  wink  at  its  ravages — how  can  we  marvel  at 
the  fate  of  those  young  lads  of  twenty,  thus  flung  on 
their  own  resources,  without  guide  of  any  kind, 
who  yet  are  not  withheld  from  perceiving,  from 
hearing,  or  inhaling  in  great  gulps  the  insidious 
delight  of  this  poisoned  atmosphere  ? 

♦  Sertillanges,  "  Nos  Vrais  Ennemis,"  p.  219,  (Lecoffre,  Paris  : 
1902.) 


no    THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

"  The  premature  and  wholly  intellectual  revela- 
tion of  the  sentimental  realm  has  no  part  whatever 
in  touching,  so  to  speak,  his  heart.  Ill-directed  and 
random  reading,  uncontrolled  conversation,  un- 
restricted companionship;  a  too  sedentary  regime 
that  gives  rise  to  nervous  irritability — all  these 
things  conspire  to  the  precocious  awakening  of  the 
imagination,  against  which  religious  restraint  can 
alone  prevail.  .  .  .  The  result  is  that  the  adolescent 
becomes  mentally  initiated  in  all  the  ardours,  the 
subtleties,  and  perversions  of  passion-fed  existence, 
and  that,  at  an  age,  when  he  has,  as  yet,  experienced 
but  the  puerile  emotions  of  school-life."* 

Let  us  suppose  such  a  school-boy,  in  his  subse- 
quent University  career,  falling  into  a  circle  where 
wholesale  tolerance  in  regard  to  vice  finds  currency, 
can  we  not  foresee  the  disastrous  results  ?  Or,  let 
us  say,  he  falls  under  the  sway  of  a  wealthy  set,  the 
members  of  which,  having  no  cares  as  to  livelihood, 
and  spoilt  by  home  indulgence,  spend  their  days  in 
assuring  for  themselves  the  impotence  of  their  riper 
years ;  or  again,  he  may  consort  with  enfeebled 
pessimists — with  those  who  lose  heart  ere  yet  they 
are  on  the  battle-field,  or  with  the  idle  of  every 
variety,  or  with  the  worn-out  ingenuous  dilettante 
who  exhorts  him  to  do  nothing,  diligently,  who 
conducts  him  to  the  wine-shop,  and  helps  him,  with 
enthusiasm,  to  every  kind  of  debauch. 

These,  briefly  scanned,  are  the  immediate  and 

remote  causes  that  give  birth,  in  our  contemporary 

youth,  to  emotional  egoism,  and  deliver  them  up 

without  mercy  to  the  tyranny  of  the  flesh.     There 

*  Paul  Bourget,  op,  cit. 


SENSUALITY  111 

remains  the  task  of  noting  the  chief  effects  of  such  sen- 
suality, and  thence  we  shall  arrive  at  the  remedies 
likely  to  overcome  these,  and  prevent  their  renewal. 

III.  The  Effects  of  Sensuality. 

Sensuality  is,  undeniably,  an  anti-social  crime. 
The  moral  value  of  society  is  dependent  on  the 
morality  of  its  members.  If  these  are  corrupt,  how 
shall  the  society  itself  escape  corruption  ?  Add  a 
zero  to  another  zero  and  you  get  no  numerical 
result.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may  occur — it 
frequently  does — that  individual  corruption  is  the 
outcome  of  social  causes.  I  have  alluded  earlier  to 
those  modern  conditions  of  life  that  are  hostile  to 
the  education  of  character.  And  it  is  evident  to 
every  understanding,  that  social  causes  of  corrup- 
tion have  multiplied,  in  our  day,  in  alarming 
proportions.  It  is  deplorable  to  have  to  state  that 
the  moral  evil  springing  from  these  social  causes 
may  be  referred  rather  to  our  advancement  than 
our  retrogression. 

In  the  promotion  of  knowledge  for  solely  utili- 
tarian ends,  we  have  come  to  look  upon  it,  little  by 
little,  as  a  mere  instrument  for  our  pleasure,  an 
eternal  fount  for  our  gratification.  At  once,  thereby, 
the  axis  of  morality  becomes  displaced.  It  is 
perfectly  true  that  at  no  time  has  there  been  so 
much  talk  of  the  value  of  altruism,  self-abnegation, 
solidarity,  as  at  present;  there  is  not  a  public 
speaker  who  does  not  feel  himself  bound,  at  meet- 
ings or  official  gatherings  of  any  description,  to 
enunciate  this  sentiment ;  and  particularly  on  those 
occasions  when  it  is  expedient  to  impress  the  crowd 


112         THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

with  big-sounding  phrases  and  stereotyped  formulae. 
But  let  us  more  closely  inspect,  let  us  grasp  within 
our  fingers,  this  humanitarian  mask,  and  we  shall  be 
horror-stricken  at  the  amount  of  egoism  it  disguises. 
I  do  not  by  any  means  wish  to  allege  that  these 
pronouncements  in  regard  to  devotion  and  neigh- 
bourly obligation  are  throughout  insincere  and 
false ;  on  the  contrary,  I  do  believe  in  the  sincerity 
of  the  greater  number.  But  how  illusive,  how 
distressingly  futile,  are  these  generous  impulses, 
when  conceived  by  those  who  in  practice  totally 
frustrate  all  that  they  in  theory  most  cherish  !  I  ask 
the  reader  to  forgive  me  if  I  again  lay  stress  on  this 
point,  and  to  permit  me  to  demonstrate  once  again 
its  importance,  as  I  proceed  to  dwell  on  the  anti- 
social effects  of  sensual  egoism. 

Physical  Effects. — We  owe  ourselves,  body  and 
soul,  to  society ;  it  has  the  right  to  draw  upon  our 
forces,  and  to  demand  of  us  that  we  rightly  econo- 
mise these.  Sensuality  is  a  terrible  squanderer  of 
force ;  no  vice  so  surely  undermines  the  body,  dim- 
inishes the  intelligence,  and  atrophies  the  heart  so 
rapidly.  Sensuality  is,  for  this  reason,  conspicuously, 
an  anti-social  vice.  It  must  be  remembered — for  in 
such  matters  clearness  is  incumbent  upon  us — that 
there  is  sensuality  and  sensuality.  I  make  no 
account  of  those  fugitive  weaknesses  to  which 
physical  temperament,  our  fallen  nature,  and  our 
environment  so  largely  contribute — all  such  may 
be  overcome  by  the  exercise  of  prudence  and 
energetic  determination.  The  kind  of  sensuality 
I  denounce  is  that  to  which  a  young  man  yields 
without  a  struggle,  which  he  cultivates  for  itself. 


SENSUALITY  113 

denying  himself  no  kind  of  satisfaction — that  quality 
of  sensuality  that  may  be  likened  to  a  foul  worm 
that  attacks,  for  choice,  the  freshly  opening  bud, 
sucks  from  it  its  vital  juices,  and  devours  it  down  to 
its  stem.  It  is  enough  to  observe  attentively  those 
youths  who  are  its  victims.  In  despite  of  the  artifices 
they  employ  to  hide  from  others  their  shattered  con- 
dition, this  is  easily  discernible  in  their  enfeebled 
bodies,  in  their  listless  gait,  in  their  clouded  aspect. 
What  expectation  can  society  reasonably  found 
on  such  a  contribution  to  their  strength?  They 
can  only  be  injurious  to  it — first,  in  depriving  it 
of  the  capital  of  individual  energy  to  which  it  is 
entitled,  and  then,  in  bequeathing — by  instalments 
— a  heritage  of  impoverished  blood,  of  offspring 
destined,  from  birth,  to  wither  in  corruption.  To 
whom  shall  these  young  voluptuaries  go,  to  offer 
the  dregs  of  their  shattered  selves  ?  They  may,  by 
a  miracle,  marry  a  wife  who  has  escaped  from  the 
general  contamination,  and  if  so,  such  neutralisation 
of  force  by  weakness  is  sad  to  contemplate.  If,  on 
the  contrary,  a  mate  be  chosen  who,  herself,  is  the 
victim  of  this  depraved  habit,  it  can  be  foreseen 
what  will  follow  from  this  union  of  dead  organisms 
that  aim  at  generating  life :  there  will  be  no  issue, 
or  worse — there  will  be  given  to  society  beings 
from  whom  vice,  like  a  vampire,  will  have  sucked 
before  birth  their  life-blood,  and  put  out  for  all  time 
the  light  in  their  eyes.  Go  then,  and  talk  of  social 
regeneration  to  men  whose  existence  is  one  slow 
suicide,  who  daily  resign  themselves  to  death  at  the 
expense  of  others,  on  the  sole  condition  that  they 
may  be  allowed  to  live  for  themselves ! 

8 


114       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Intellectual  Effects. — That  the  intellectual  effects  of 
sensualism,  in  a  youth,  are  no  less  deplorable  than 
the  physical  ones;  that  the  senses  are  satisfied  at 
the  cost  of  the  mind ;  that  the  dissolute  body  dis- 
solves the  energies  of  the  soul — all  these  facts  are 
attested  by  common  experience.  The  intellect 
requires  for  its  expansion  physical  tranquillity, 
sound  functions,  untainted  blood,  and  controlled 
nerves.  The  body  is  the  natural  instrument  of  the 
intellect,  and  whenever  I  contemplate  their  relations, 
I  am  reminded  of  an  .^olian  harp,  which,  suspended 
according  to  the  legend  on  the  branches  of  some 
willow-tree,  would  produce  sweet  vibrations  as  the 
fresh  gusts  of  an  April  morning,  or  the  gentle 
breezes  of  an  autumnal  evening,  breathed  upon  it. 
If  peace  reigns  within  him  and  without,  if  his  flesh 
be  not  disturbed  by  the  agitating  storms  of  passion, 
then  can  the  intellect,  thrown,  as  some  light  current 
of  air,  on  the  sensitive  fibres  of  this  wondrous 
instrument,  call  forth  full,  sweet  harmonies,  whose 
depths  and  tunefulness  help  largely  to  temper  the 
harsh  and  hollow  accents  of  sensualism. 

Were  it  otherwise,  and  the  body  a  prey  to  the 
violent  winds  of  voluptuousness  —  then,  those 
thousand  and  one  sensitive  fibres  that  constitute  it, 
would  be  strained  or  split  up ;  intellect  may  do  its 
uttermost,  not  one  sound  will  be  forthcoming. 

Bodily  enjoyment  is  wholly  incompatible  with 
intellectual  joys ;  that  which  relies  upon  the  flesh  is 
incapable  of  working  on  the  spirit.  "The  young 
man  who  returns  to  his  student  quarters  at  the 
close  of  an  evening  of  pleasure,  does  so  in  a  state  of 
mental  disruption ;  the  contrast  of  the  lights,  of  the 


SENSUALITY  115 

dances,  of  the  seductions  of  beauty,  in  all  its  trap- 
pings, that  he  has  left  behind,  with  the  simple  sur- 
roundings that  confront  him  is  fatal  to  his  mental 
well-being.  He  is  tremendously  discouraged,  for  he 
has  not  learnt,  as  yet,  how  rightly  to  estimate  these 
fictitious  joys.  Full  of  illusion,  as  of  energy,  he  is, 
so  far,  incapable  of  perceiving  reality.  He  con- 
structs for  himself  his  exterior  world,  and  the 
persons  that  fill  it,  and  the  hallucination  created  is 
so  vivid  that  it  hides  from  him  all  that  is  actual.  Is 
it  astonishing  that,  by  comparison,  his  calm,  unen- 
cumbered student-life — really  so  happy — should 
appear  to  him  intolerably  monotonous  and  gloomy  ?"* 
How  many  youthful  pessimists  are  begotten  by 
this  life  of  pleasure!  Starting  their  career  as 
students,  brimful  of  fine  aspirations  and  high 
intention,  the  future  smiles  on  them;  some  day 
they  will  evolve  into  men  of  science,  a  credit  to 
society,  and  to  their  country.  For  a  year — or 
possibly  two — all  goes  well,  then,  gradually,  their 
ardour  cools.  After  all,  they  tell  themselves,  their 
body  has  its  rights  as  well  as  their  mind  !  They 
will  observe  all  moderation  and  discretion — at  the 
start — then,  passion,  fed  daily  with  infinitesimal 
doses,  plays  havoc  with  discretion ;  it  is  the  cancer 
that  ravages  the  organism,  and  finally  devours  it ; 
it  is  a  tide  which  slowly  uproots  the  sea-wall  and 
carries  all  along  with  it.  So  are  these  carried  along; 
the  flesh  claims  anew  from  them  its  asserted  rights 
over  the  spirit,  and  thus,  in  the  place  of  healthy, 
hard-working,  intelligent  youths,  their  gifts  the 
rightful  assets  of  their  country,  we  gather  the 
*  Payot,  op.  cit.,  p.  207. 


116       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

withered  fruit — of  a  body  precociously  exhausted, 
an  intelligence  dulled,  a  will  enfeebled,  a  heart  that 
is  atrophied.  For,  not  content  with  blighting  the 
intelligence  and  destroying  the  will,  sensuality  dries 
up  the  heart  and  shrivels  it  like  a  withering  leaf. 

Moral  Effects. — "  I  maintain,"  says  Lacordaire, 
"that  I  have  never  encountered  tenderness  in  a 
libertine.  I  have  never  met  a  loving  spirit  but  in 
those  who  were  either  ignorant  of  evil,  or  were 
struggling  against  it.  Because,  once  habituated  to 
violent  emotions,  how  can  the  heart,  that  is  so 
delicate  a  plant,  that  is  nourished  by  the  dew 
falling  from  heaven,  that  is  swayed  by  the  lightest 
breath,  made  happy  for  days  by  the  remembrance 
of  the  spoken  word,  by  the  glance  bestowed,  by 
the  encouragement  given  to  it  by  the  lips  of  a 
mother,  or  the  hand-grasp  of  a  friend ;  how  shall 
that  which  has  so  calm  a  movement,  that  which, 
naturally,  is  almost  insensible,  because  of  its  very 
sensibility,  and  its  alarm  lest  one  breath  of  love 
should  break  it,  if  God  had  made  it  less  profound — 
how,  I  say,  can  this  heart  oppose  its  gentle  and 
frail  joys  to  those  coarse  emotions  of  the  depraved 
sense?  The  one  is  selfish,  the  other  generous;  the 
one  lives  for  self,  the  other  outside  of  self:  of  these 
two  tendencies,  one  must  prevail.  If  the  depraved 
sense  has  its  way,  the  heart  decays  little  by  little — it 
loses  its  capacity  for  simple  joys,  it  tends  no  longer 
towards  others,  it  finally  pulsates  only  in  relation  to 
the  course  of  the  blood,  and  marks  the  hours  of  that 
sshmeless  time,  the  flight  of  which  is  hastened  by 
debauchery."*  These,  briefly  summed  up,  are  a 
♦  "  Conf.  de  Notre-Dame,"  1844,  22*  Conf. 


SENSUALITY  117 

few  of  the  anti-social  effects  of  sensual  egoism  in  the 
young.  I  propose  now  to  make  known  a  certain 
specific  for  the  disease. 

IV.  The  Cure  for  Sensuality. 

Let  me  insist  again :  The  remedy  is  to  be  found 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  evil.  The  evil  arises,  solely, 
from  the  fact  that  we  do  not  love  ourselves  in  the 
right  way.  To  effect  a  cure,  therefore,  we  have — 
not  to  hate  self — but  to  love  self,  rightly.  And  what 
do  I  mean,  when  I  talk  of  loving  "  rightly"?  Why, 
this :  To  love  in  self  all  that  which  exalts,  and  not 
that  which  degrades ;  to  love  the  man,  and  not  the 
beast ;  to  love  the  Christian,  rather  than  the  man  ! 

Sensibility. — It  is,  in  no  sense,  forbidden  that  we 
should  have  affection  for  our  bodies;  what  is  for- 
bidden is,  that  we  should  cherish  Body  at  the  ex- 
pense of  Soul.  But,  just  suppose  for  an  instant,  that 
it  were  permissible  to  give  the  body  an  exclusive 
love  without  having  regard  to  the  necessary  sub- 
servience of  the  flesh  to  the  laws  of  the  spirit.  Even 
in  this  absurd  hypothesis  it  is  not  evident,  in  any 
way,  that  sensual  egoism  is  the  last  word  of  wisdom. 
Epicurus,  himself,  taught  that  it  is  most  prudent  to 
choose  those  pleasures  that  are  refined  and  lasting, 
rather  than  the  transient  and  gross  pleasures  of  vice. 
So  that,  affection  rightly  understood — even  if  con- 
fined to  the  body  alone — is  not  consistent  with  sen- 
suality. What  shall  be  said,  then,  when  far  from  con- 
sidering the  Body  as  an  independent  reality,  having 
a  separate  existence,  we  regard  it,  solely,  in  relation 
to  the  Soul  ?  From  this  standpoint  we  see,  that 
even  legitimate  bodily  gratifications  that  affect  our 


118        THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

physical  health,  the  harmonious  action  of  our  organs, 
the  shades  and  complexities  of  our  nervous  system, 
do  not  represent  an  end  in  themselves,  but  are  sub- 
ordinate to  the  higher  joys  of  the  heart  and  intelli- 
gence. Therefore,  all  that  is  calculated  to  lessen 
these  joys,  or  encroach  upon  them,  must  be  imme- 
diately abandoned.  It  is  not  permissible  that  a 
young  man  should  see,  hear,  read,  and  do  everything, 
but  it  is  essential  that  he  should  hear,  read,  see,  and 
perform  all  those  things  that  are  bound  to  elevate 
his  intelligence,  and  enlarge  his  heart. 

Intellectual  Culture. — It  is  our  duty,  as  Christians 
and  upright  men,  to  develop  our  minds ;  there  is  no 
human  perfection  attainable  without  this.  We  do 
not  all,  alike,  possess  the  intellectual  vocation,  nor 
can  we  all  pursue  learning  for  its  own  sake,  that  is 
certain ;  we  all,  however,  have  the  vocation  to  be  as 
intellectual  as  lies  within  our  power.  If,  then, 
study,  for  its  own  sake,  has  no  attraction  for  us,  we 
can  at  least  pursue  it  in  view  of  an  honourable 
future.  Every  student  conceives  this  ambition,  and 
it  is,  in  itself,  a  sure  preventive  against  sensual 
indulgence.  For  ambition  has  this  peculiarity,  that 
it  attracts  the  energies  necessary  for  its  fertilisation, 
and  casts  off  those  that  are  inimical  to  it.  Chaste 
for  the  sake  of  his  ambition,  a  youth  will,  surely,  in 
the  end,  court  chastity  for  its  own  sake  when  once 
he  has  tasted  its  indescribable  charm. 

Moral  Culture. — But  chastity  must  not  be  pursued 
with  the  sole  design  of  safeguarding  our  intellect ; 
it  is  needful  to  be  chaste  with  the  high  resolve  of 
amplifying  our  hearts.  An  upright  man — therefore, 
more  imperatively,  a  Christian — should  be  virtuous 


SENSUALITY  119 

in  all  essentials ;  that  is  to  say,  his  goodness  must 
have  no  other  limits  than  those  assigned  to  it  by 
reason  and  faith.  If,  then,  it  be  acknowledged  that 
only  by  a  disinterested  love  for  others  can  we  stifle 
an  interested  love  for  self,  we  may  allow,  further, 
that  out  of  a  chaste  and  unselfish  love  for  self,  there 
can  alone  spring  an  unselfish  love  for  others  ;  when 
we  serve  our  brother  rather  than  self,  we  can  love 
him,  for  his  sake,  rather  than  for  our  own.  I  have 
alluded,  earlier,  to  the  wife  who,  one  day,  is  to  share 
the  domestic  hearth.  I  know  of  young  men  for  whom 
the  mere  vague  conception  of  such  a  future  relation 
suffices  to  keep  them  chaste  and  high-living.  Having 
such  a  motive — exclusively — does  not,  doubtless, 
make  chastity  meritorious  in  a  Christian.  Never- 
theless, even  this  motive,  if  sincere,  helps  to  carry 
him  step  by  step  into  closer  approximation  with  the 
supreme  and,  pre-eminently,  purifying  ideal. 

Frankly,  we  are  not  angels,  and  due  allowance 
must  be  made  for  this  fact.  Better  is  it,  so  at  least 
I  think,  to  attain  to  God  by  such  winding  paths  as 
can  lead  us  to  Him,  than  to  stand,  hesitating,  be- 
cause we  dare  not  attempt  to  clear,  at  a  bound,  the 
distance  separating  us.  In  this  sense  we  find  that 
the  love  of  mankind,  of  all  those  who  share  with  us 
in  one  human  and  divine  brotherhood,  helps  us  to 
the  love  of  God.  One  may  belong  to  one's  time  in 
seeking  to  further  that  solidarity  which  is  a  sign  of 
it,  in  cherishing  others,  because  of  our  common 
humanity;  and  one  can  outstrip  one's  time  in 
cherishing  those  others  because,  before  all  reasons, 
of  the  divinity  that  envelops  them  and  us,  alike.  If 
we  attain  so  far,  we  have  but  a  step  to  reach  upwards 


120       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

to  the  love  of  God,  for  Himself,  and  in  the  supreme 
degree.  Thus,  do  we  find  salvation ;  for,  loving  God 
for  Himself,  we  proceed  thence  to  the  love  of  others 
and  self,  for  His  sake. 

Thence,  we  are  enabled  to  descend  with  ease  the 
slopes  up  which  we  have  climbed  so  painfully.  In 
that  we  have  tasted  of  celestial  joys,  we  are  able  to 
rightly  value  earthly  ones ;  in  that  we  have  ap- 
proached nigh  unto  the  heavens,  the  earth  seems 
puny ;  in  that  we  thirst  for  the  higher  world,  we  can 
no  longer  hunger  after  the  lower.  We  may  be 
likened  to  a  traveller  who,  spurred  on  by  his  love 
for  the  mountains,  has  succeeded  in  scaling  their 
lofty  peaks.  As  he  does  so,  instantaneously,  all  is 
enlarged  before  his  eyes,  the  sky  is  more  profound, 
the  horizon  limitless.  At  his  feet  extend  the  hills 
and  silent  forests.  He  hears  the  hum  of  the  cities 
beneath,  as  the  murmur  of  many  voices.  He  is  filled 
with  an  extraordinary  sense  of  joy — the  joy  of  find- 
ing himself,  for  the  moment,  detached  from  earthly 
things,  and,  in  the  august  solitude,  of  dominating  all 
within  the  compass  of  his  vision. 


PART  III 

ACTION  AND  CHARACTER 


CHAPTER  I 

HABIT 

We  have  now  dealt  with  the  part  played  by  the 
Ideal  and  the  Passions  in  the  education  of  character. 
We  have  seen  that,  given  energy  and  discretion, 
it  is  possible  for  the  will  to  unite,  practically,  the 
impassioned  and  sentimental  emotions  to  the 
Christian  ideal,  so  that,  thereby,  its  own  love  for  the 
ideal  may  be  quickened  and  confirmed,  and  its 
absolute  empire  over  our  sensitive  realm  ensured. 
We  have  seen,  further,  that  the  task  of  training 
character  is  not  the  task  of  a  day,  but  one  calling 
for  time  and  patience  ;  that  it  is  not  enough  to  know 
that  our  passions  and  sentiments  can  be  pressed 
into  the  service  of  the  ideal  imposed  upon  us,  but 
that  our  highest  duty  lies  in  effectually  performing 
this  service  in  reality,  and  with  unremitting  zeal. 
How  is  this  to  be  done  ?  By  action.  Now,  action 
has  a  twofold  nature  :  it  is  natural  and  supernatural* 

*  There  are  some  who  question  the  distinction  drawn  between 
natural  and  supernatural  action.  These  revert,  in  practice,  to  the 
distinction  that  we,  for  analytical  purposes,  maintain  in  theory. 
In  practice,  the  upright  m^n  and  the  Christian  are  one  and  the 

121 


122   THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Natural  action  should  issue  in  the  creation  of 
sound  moral  habit  that,  once  acquired,  materially 
aids  our  task  and  renders  it  agreeable.  Super- 
natural action,  on  the  other  hand— with  all  that  it 
implies  of  grace,  the  exercise  of  prayer,  the  use  of 
the  sacraments,  the  performance  of  charity,  in  its 
many  phases — will  afford  us  invaluable  support, 
since,  indisputably,  we  find  that  grace  in  nowise 
frustrates  nature,  but  perfects  it;  that  it  does  not 
diminish  man,  but  exalts  him;  that  it  does  not 
weaken,  but  fortifies  him. 

We  will  confine  ourselves,  at  present,  with  re- 
viewing the  part  played  by  natural  action  in  the 
education  of  character— to  return  later  to,  and 
complete  the  survey  of  that  allotted  to  supernatural 
action.* 

The  whole  end  of  natural  action  is  to  place  us  in 
possession  of  sound  moral  habits  which,  intelhgently 
grouped  around  the  axis  of  the  will,  help  to  produce 
men  of  character.  What  do  I  mean  by  "moral 
habits,"  and  in  what,  actually,  consists  their 
morality?  I  will  attempt  an  answer  to  these  two 
preliminary  questions. 

I.  The  Nature  of  Habit. 

Everyone  understands  the  general  significance  of 
the  word  "habit" — it  means,  a  tendency  acquired 
by   the    repetition    of   certain    acts    to    reproduce 

same.  But,  just  as  one  may  distinguish  in  the  Christian  ideal  a 
human  aspect  and  a  Divine  aspect,  so,  in  the  realisation  of  this 
ideal,  Christian  action  has  a  natural  and  a  supernatural  quality. 
Both  are  derived  from  grace,  but  their  claims  to  it  are  divergent. 
*  "  La  Virilite  Chretienne."    (Desclee,  Lille  :  1909.) 


HABIT  123 

analogous  acts  with  ease  and  satisfaction.  So  that, 
moral  habit  must,  necessarily,  imply  the  tendency 
to  reproduce  readily,  and  gracefully,  moral  acts, 
in  virtue,  uniquely,  of  the  fact  of  their  repetition. 
To  simpHfy  the  meaning  of  this  definition  I  need 
only  indicate  as  briefly  as  may  be  the  significance  of 
habit  in  relation  to  our  moral  organism. 

The  Significance  of  Habit. — Let  us  consider  a  child, 
arrived  at  years  of  discretion — at  that  given  moment 
when  it  behoves  him,  as  a  Christian,  to  perform 
acts  compatible  with  human  and  Divine  laws.  His 
psychic  state  is  not  so  simple  as  might  be  antici- 
pated. By  which  I  do  not  mean  his  intelligence,  in 
that,  hardly  as  yet  awakened  to  the  truth,  it  assimil- 
ates only  that  measure  of  its  light  as  he  is  capable 
of  absorbing,  and  such  as  suffices  to  start  his  first 
footsteps,  but  does  not  dispense  him  from  the  need 
of  assistance  in  their  guidance.  I  would  treat 
rather  of  his  volition.  A  child's  will,  as  we  know^ 
is  a  fragile  and  delicate  element  that  has  been  for 
some  years  swathed  in  the  bonds  of  sensibility,  and 
proceeds  to  regain  its  liberty,  painfully.  Its  power 
is  not  paralysed,  but  it  is  benumbed.  And  just  as 
the  limbs  of  a  child  become  nimble  only  through 
use,  so  his  volition  can  alone  be  rendered  active  by 
the  stimulus  of  desire.  By  force  of  desire — in  other 
words,  by  the  act  of  willing — he  is  able,  by  degrees,  to 
possess  volition. 

We  must  not  labour  under  the  mistaken  idea,  that 
a  child,  because  he  is  young,  and,  therefore,  as  yet 
unspoilt  by  time,  is  in  a  state  of  pure  spirit,  whose 
desire  after  the  Divine  Good  encounters  no  kind  of 
resistance.     Such  a  conclusion  would  involve  the 


124       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACl^R 

premises  that  his  will  has  been  already  determined, 
at  birth,  and  further,  that  his  senses  are  naturally 
orientated  in  the  direction  of  God. 

And  we  have  clearly  perceived  that  such  is  not 
the  case.  A  child's  will  becomes  gradually  formed, 
by  dint  of  persistent  effort,  and  countless  acts  of 
energy.  Similarly,  his  sensible  faculties  will  submit 
themselves  to  the  yoke  of  an  austere  ideal,  such  as 
the  Christian  ideal,  only  when  these  have  undergone 
a.  lengthy  preparation  at  the  hands  of  the  will ;  for 
the  ethical  training  of  the  sensibilities  is,  in  the 
highest  degree,  a  matter  of  self-conscious  repre- 
sentation and  effort.  Of  course,  I  am  aware  that 
numbers  are  born,  endowed  with  qualities  of 
temperament,  that  considerably  favour  ethical 
training.  But  these  may  be  accounted  the  excep- 
tion. It  is  also  evident,  that  those  most  favoured  in 
this  respect,  are  not  dispensed  thereby  from  action. 
It  is  one  thing  to  be  disinclined  to  evil  as  the  out- 
come of  natural  attributes,  and  quite  another  to  be 
disposed  to  good,  as  the  outcome  of  will  and  energy. 
There  are  beings  who  remain  virtuous,  in  that  they 
are  incapable  of  vice ;  whereas  there  are  others 
who  become  virtuous,  notwithstanding  a  predis- 
position to  vice.  These  have  character;  the  first 
have  none.  Hence,  I  conclude,  that  a  child,  arrived 
at  that  period  of  his  growth  when  he  is  called  upon 
to  act  in  accordance  with  Reason  and  Faith,  finds 
himself,  inevitably,  at  a  disadvantage  precisely 
because  he  is  a  child.  What  should  cut  asunder 
the  sensible  ropes  that  hold  him  fast  to  the  earth 
and  so  set  free  his  aspiring  spirit  that,  like  a  captive 
balloon,  is  thus  deprived  of  its  power  of  flight?    It 


HABIT  125 

is  the  will's  function,  but  it  appertains  to  the  active 
will — that  which  pursues,  unremittingly,  its  obliga- 
tions, and  slowly,  but  surely,  becomes  nourished 
and  strengthened  by  its  own  acts. 

Similar  principles  are  involved  in  the  education  of 
character  and  in  the  education  of  the  intellect.  "  If  a 
child  is  unable  to  make  practical  use  of  a  grammatical 
rule,"  declares  Kant,  "it  is  of  little  moment  that  he 
can  say  it  by  rote — he  does  not  know  it.  That  child 
who  has  the  capacity  to  apply  its  rule  knows  it 
infallibly,  and  it  matters  little  whether  he  is  able,  in 
addition,  to  quote  it  correctly.  .  .  ,  The  best  means 
of  understanding  is  to  perform.  One  learns  most 
thoroughly  and  lastingly  that  which  has  been 
learned  in  some  sort  independently."  How  should 
it  benefit  a  child  that  he  knows,  and  can  recite  by 
heart,  his  moral  catechism,  if  he  put  not  into  prac- 
tice the  rules  it  prescribes.  I  have  come  across 
winners  of  a  "  First  prize  in  religious  instruction," 
who  have  subsequently  developed  into  famous 
materialists.  The  best-known  moral  precepts  are 
those  that  are  oftenest  practised ;  a  man,  who  is 
really  chaste,  is  better  acquainted  with  the  whole 
subject  of  chastity — however  illiterate  he  may  be 
— than  the  writer  of  genius,  who  is  a  sensualist, 
albeit  that  he  expatiates,  untiringly,  on  the  incom- 
parable charm  of  that  virtue  he  does  not  possess. 
Action  plays,  in  respect  of  education,  the  leading 
r6le,  and  one  that  is  superior  to  the  most  enlightened 
and  highly  literary  of  treatises.  If  a  portion  of  the 
work  accomplished  by  a  child  takes  the  form  of 
impressions  inscribed  on  its  memory,  so,  too,  are 
active    habits    inscribed    as    a    result  of   activity. 


186       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Nothing  is  wasted  in  our  psychological  life :  nature 
is  a  scrupulous  accountant.  Whatever  our  actions, 
however  seemingly  insignificant,  these  renewed,  go 
to  mount  up  in  the  course  of  weeks,  months,  years, 
an  alarming  total,  inscribed  on  the  organic  memory 
in  the  form  of  ineradicable  habit.  Time,  that  pre- 
cious ally  of  our  enfranchisement,  works  with  the 
same  steady  obstinacy  against  us,  unless  we  con- 
strain it  to  work  for  us.  He  utilises  for,  or 
against  us,  that  dominating  psychological  law,  the 
law  of  habit.  Victor,  and  sure  of  its  victory,  habit 
advances  with  deliberate  and  insidious  strides, 
aware,  as  it  would  seem,  that  slow  action,  indefi- 
nitely repeated,  is  prodigiously  efficacious.  The 
initial  act  once  accomplished,  already,  its  repetition 
costs  less  :  Repeat  it  a  third,  and  a  fourth  time,  and 
the  effort  entailed  gradually  becomes  lessened  and, 
finally,  is  non-existent.  How  can  it  be  non-existent  ? 
What  is  painful  exertion  at  the  outset  develops 
gradually  into  a  need,  and,  if  irksome  in  the  begin- 
ning, causes,  in  the  end,  discomfort  only  when  left 
unperformed."* 

Fundamentally,  the  true  object  of  moral  habit  is 
to  strengthen  the  natural  weakness  of  our  active 
faculties,  to  increase  a  hundredfold  their  activity, 
and,  this  done,  to  advance,  as  it  were,  mechanically, 
toward  good.  In  this  sense  is  habit,  actually, 
second  nature.  But  while  our  first  nature  is  be- 
stowed upon  us  ready-made,  and  without  our  per- 
sonal co-operation,  habit  is  essentially  our  work ; 
we  become,  by  its  acquisition,  our  own  creators. 
And  this  brings  me  to  the  discussion  of  the  degree 
of  morality  entailed  in  moral  habits. 
*  Payot,  op.  cii.,  p.  135. 


HABIT  127 

II.  The  Morality  of  Habit. 

Some  philosophers  there  are  who  contest  the 
morahty  of  moral  habits.  This  may  appear  para- 
doxical ;  none  the  less  is  it  a  fact.  If  virtue  is 
the  habit  of  right  performance,  in  the  long  run  it 
becomes  a  sort  of  routine,  whence  all  freedom  is 
banished.  By  the  diminution  of  effort,  there  follows 
a  diminution  of  merit,  and  thus  the  morality  of 
our  actions  is  threatened. 

Conclusion  :  let  us  acquire  the  least  possible  sum  of 
good  habits. — Here,  anew,  are  we  presented  with 
one  of  those  paper  theories,  against  which  we 
cannot  too  strongly  protest,  so  enervating  is  their 
influence.  It  is,  perfectly  true  that  a  virtuous  action 
is  the  more  praiseworthy  inasmuch  as  it  demands 
effort,  and  is  the  product  of  liberty.  That,  however, 
is  not  the  question.  It  is,  to  ascertain  whether  it  is 
possible  for  a  rightly  intentioned  person,  spurred  on 
by  his  notions  of  duty,  to  continue  to  expend  with 
unflagging  persistence  the  same  amount  of  effort 
that  was  incumbent  upon  him  at  the  outset  of  his 
ethical  life.  To  this,  universal  experience  replies  : 
No,  it  is  not  possible.  To  assert  the  contrary  were 
evidence  either  of  blindness  to  facts,  or  else,  that 
one  has  never  been  called  upon  to  wrestle,  per- 
sonally, with  a  rebellious  temperament,  to  overcome 
violent  temptation,  to  grapple  with  adverse  circum- 
stance. The  prospect  of  a  continuous  renewal  of  the 
same  conflict,  and  under  the  same  conditions,  would 
discourage  the  most  valiant. 

Habit  and  Liberty. — Moreover,  in  the  opinion  of 
leading    psychologists,  the    maintenance   of  good 


128        THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

habits,  far  from  curtailing  our  liberty,  rather  aug- 
ments it.  "  They  are  greatly  mistaken,"  one  writes, 
"  who  assert  that  it  (habit)  substitutes  for  moral 
effort — alone  meritorious  —  an  automatic  virtue, 
actually  valueless,  and  but  a  species  of  useful  and 
pleasant  routine.  It  is  the  reverse  that  occurs. 
This  acquired  or,  rather,  conquered  infallibility 
represents  the  highest  degree  of  merit,  and  is  the 
highest  liberty."* 

No  one  is  free,  I  repeat  it,  but  he  who  deserves  to 
be  so.  By  moral  habit  he  acquires  the  right.  Habit 
is,  literally,  the  mainspring  of  free  activity,  in  that  it 
is  founded  on  voluntary  action  incessantly  repeated, 
and  also,  in  that,  under  its  beneficent  influence,  we 
assume  daily  an  increased  possession  of  self — that 
which  admittedly  is  the  ultimate  object  in  training 
character.  It  may  be  objected  that,  notoriously, 
habit,  in  relieving  effort,  at  the  same  time  relieves 
the  conscience ;  and  so  we  are  reduced  to  a  per- 
formance of  duty  that  is  merely  instinctive  and 
mechanical.  This  is  not  a  new  objection,  and,  while 
I  deal  with  it,  I  will  not  venture  so  far  as  to  main- 
tain, as  do  some,  that  it  lies  with  the  education  of 
character  to  superintend  this,  that  all  such  educa- 
tion is  incomplete  until  conscious  performance  has 
evoked  unconscious  performance — until,  in  other 
words,  one  has  attained  to  that  degree  of  skill  in  the 
manipulation  of  the  keyboard  of  the  virtues,  which 
enables  an  accomplished  musician  to  perform  upon 
his  instrument,  having  his  eyes  shut ;  the  qualities 
of  character,  will-power,  initiative,  etc.,  are  not  the 
offspring  of  abstract  reasoning,  and  cannot  be  learnt 

*  Marion,  "  La  Solidarite  Morale,"  p.  io6.    (Alcan,  Paris.) 


HABIT  129 

from  books ;  they  become  habits  entirely  apart  from 
the  sphere  of  reason.* 

Now,  in  truth,  a  morality  which  discusses  itself  is 
but  a  poor  sort  of  morality,  and  the  man  of  scruples 
who  passes  his  life  in  dissecting  his  least  actions  is, 
frequently,  the  very  antithesis  of  the  man  of  action. 
But  there  is  a  vast  gulf  between  this  attitude  and 
that  which  alleges   that  the  conscious  practice  of 
duty  must,  in  the  end,  issue  in  the  total  elimination 
of  conscious  morality !    The  very  complexity  of  the 
ethical  life  stands  opposed  to  this  notion.  If  virtuous 
action  were  presented  to  us,  invariably,  under  like 
aspect  and  conditions,  one  might  entertain  the  hope 
that,  after  ten  or  twenty  years'  practice,  its  perform- 
ance would   finally  grow  mechanical.     But    such, 
emphatically,  is  not  the  case.    There  are  a  thousand 
ways  in  which  the  same  individual  may  from  day 
to  day,  nay,  from  one  hour  to  the  next,  practise 
prudence,  charity,   temperance,   chastity,  humility. 
The  paths  of  virtue  cross  one  another,  endlessly. 
We   may  liken    ourselves    to    the    traveller    who 
traverses  a  virgin  forest  and  encounters  surprises 
at  every   turn.    Beneath   every   moral   action,  as 
beneath  every  forest  leaf,  there  may  be  concealed 
a  reptile :  that  we  have  escaped  its  fangs  for  twenty 
years  is  no  sure  guarantee  that  we  shall  do  so  in 
the  future.    So,  there  is  not  an  instant  in  our  lives, 
however  habit  may  flourish,  when  the  conscience  is 
not  bound  to  remain  on  the  alert.    The  keyboard  of 
virtue  has  no  analogy,  actually,  with  that  of  a  musical 
instrument,  in  that  it  has  not  a  determined  number 
of  notes  and  scales.    We  have,  however,  acquired  a 

*  Le  Bon,  op.  cH.,  p.  204. 

9 


130       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

certain  virtuosity,  having  learned  from  early  child- 
hood how  to  produce  various  concords ;  but,  seeing 
that  their  combination  is  inexhaustible,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  continue  to  study  incessantly.  The  saints, 
those  supreme  artists  in  the  moral  order,  never  relax 
their  vigilance,  but  perpetually  augment  effort, 
while  it  grows  less  and  merit  accrues.  Thence,  I 
gather,  that  moral  habit,  the  equivalent  of  virtue,  is 
the  highest  degree  of  merit,  and  the  highest  form  of 
liberty. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  LAWS  OF  HABIT 

It  seems  to  me  unsatisfactory  to  treat  of  habit,  as 
many  psychologists  are  prone  to  do,  as  the  mere 
product  of  action,  and  its  development  in  direct  pro- 
portion to  its  repetition.  What  is  of  moment  is  to 
ascertain,  to  what  laws  this  repetition  is  itself  sub- 
servient in  order  to  have  effect.  Now,  these  laws 
are  of  two  kinds,  according  as  they  bear  upon  the 
hygiene  of  the  soul,  or  regulate  the  exercise  of  the 
faculties.  There  can  be  no  more  important,  neither 
interesting  subject,  from  this  double  standpoint, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  there  is  none  to  which  less 
consideration  has  been  given.  I  venture,  therefore, 
to  devote  this  chapter  to  its  discussion. 

I.  The  Soul's  Hygiene. 

Physiological  Hygiene. — The  laws  of  bodily  hygiene, 
if  rightly  understood  and  regarded,  are  calculated 
to  secure  and  preserve  physical  health ;  such,  too,  is 
the  case  with  the  laws  of  moral  hygiene  in  relation 
to  the  spiritual  health.  Just  as  bodily  health  may 
be  defined  as  the  equilibrium  of  its  physiological 
functions,  so,  I  imagine,  the  health  of  the  soul  may 
be  defined  as  the  equilibrium  of  its  moral  functions. 
This  being  so,  we  have  but  to  glance  at  the  methods 
by  which  the  laws  of  bodily  hygiene  should  be 

131 


1S2       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

applied,  so  as  to  insure  the  perfect  equilibrium  of 
the  functions  in  regard  to  our  physical  organism,  in 
order,  simultaneously,  to  arrive  at  the  correct  atti- 
tude to  be  adopted  if  we  would  safeguard  our  spiri- 
tual organism.  Let  me  hasten  to  assure  my  readers 
that  I  am  not  contemplating  here  a  lecture  on 
hygiene.  I  merely  intend,  since  one  cannot  judge 
of  the  soul's  existence  without  drawing  analogies 
from  that  of  the  body,  to  direct  attention  to  certain 
details  respecting  the  proper  working  of  organic 
life,  that  it  may  be  better  understood  how  we  may 
more  prudently  regulate  the  faculties  of  the  soul. 
Now,  if  we  are  to  credit  the  physiological  experts, 
the  health  of  the  body  is  dependent,  largely,  on  the 
equilibrium  of  two  functions,  that  of  respiration  and 
nutrition.  There  can  be  no  physical  well-being, 
unless  we  assimilate,  by  means  of  our  lungs,  pure 
air,  and  by  means  of  the  stomach,  wholesome  food. 
At  first  sight,  it  may  be  imagined  that  there  can  be 
nothing  easier  of  accompHshment  than  to  provide 
the  body  with  these  "  principles  of  life."  It  is  not 
so.  That  we  are  not  lacking  in  the  means  of 
securing  fresh  air  and  wholesome  food  is  certain; 
what  we  do,  mostly,  lack,  is  a  proper  conception  of 
the  laws  of  hygiene  that  guarantee  us  these.  A 
student,  let  us  say,  is  in  temporary  occupation  of 
his  room,  the  windows  of  which  have  been  tightly 
closed  since  the  previous  day.  He  sits  down  to  his 
work.  After  a  short  interval,  he  realises  that  he  is 
making  no  progress,  he  is  not  in  the  vein,  his  head 
is  hot  and  heavy.  How  is  he  to  mend  matters? 
Very  likely,  he  needs  but  to  throw  open  his  windows 
for  a  while,  and  so  renew  the  vitiated  atmosphere. 


THE  LAWS  OF  HABIT  183 

But  to  do  this  would  cost  him  an  effort,  he  would 
have  to  interrupt  his  work,  or  his  reading,  or  cut 
the  thread  of  some  sentimental  course  of  thought 
— which  is  of  far  greater  moment  than  the  provision 
of  pure  air  for  his  lungs.  So  he  prefers  to  remain  in 
discomfort  rather  than  disturb  himself,  or,  if  he  is  to 
be  disturbed — well  then,  he  gets  up  for  good  and  all, 
and  goes  out  of  doors,  and  so  squanders  yet  a  little 
more  of  his  time.  And  he  could  have  quite  easily 
satisfied  his  need  of  fresh  air.  By  this  victory  over 
self  in  overcoming  natural  indolence,  his  physical 
well-being  would  have  been  restored,  his  intelli- 
gence revived,  his  will  confirmed.  But  we  ever 
disdain  what  is  simple;  we  despise,  on  account  of 
their  apparent  triviality,  countless  little  acts  accom- 
plished a  hundred  times  in  a  day,  by  the  one  who 
devotes  a  healthy  temperament  to  the  service  of  a 
healthy  soul :  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano.  And  it 
would  be  well  for  all  to  realise  that  bodily  health, 
like  spiritual  health,  depends  upon  it. 

I  have  just  dealt  with  the  hygiene  of  respiration ; 
the  same  may  be  said  in  regard  to  the  hygiene  of 
diet.  All  who  concern  themselves  with  this  ques- 
tion, agree,  that  we  eat  and  drink  to  excess,  and  that 
the  enormous  work  thus  thrown  upon  the  organs  is 
most  injurious  to  the  organism  as  a  whole,  and 
thence  reacts  in  the  weakening  of  the  intellectual 
and  moral  systems. 

Are  we,  then,  called  upon  to  espouse  vegetarianism 
— to  enroll  ourselves  as  teetotallers,  and  partake, 
exclusively,  of  "hygienic"  beverages?  These, 
surely,  are  violent  remedies,  and  not  for  universal 
application,  nor  especially  adapted  to  the  young. 


134       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

In  my  opinion,  there  exist  remedies  more  efficacious, 
and  which  are  too  little  regarded  by  the  advocates 
of  "  stringent  cures."  These  consist  in  a  discreet 
supervision  of  one's  daily  diet ;  in  eating  and  drink- 
ing with  due  regard  to  one's  physical  condition,  to 
the  intellectual  strain  that  has  to  be  sustained,  and 
to  needful  repose.  To  this  species  of  discipline  our 
slack  volition  cares  little  to  accommodate  itself.  We 
dislike  to  be  compelled  to  live  "  by  rule,"  even 
though  its  interpretation  be  generous  ;  to  do  so  is  a 
tax  upon  our  inertia ;  and  to  live  by  rule  is  the  con- 
trary of  "  living  one's  life."  At  twenty,  one  craves 
to  "  live  one's  life  " — one  is  carried  away  by  the 
exuberance  of  temperament,  by  disregard  of  the 
morrow,  by  one's  associates,  and  the  thousand  and 
one  incidents  of  social  existence  that  appear  to 
authorise  every  kind  of  licence  to  the  detriment  of 
the  most  elementary  forms  of  hygiene. 

Moral  Hygiene. — If  we  pass  from  the  physiological 
domain  to  the  moral  domain,  we  encounter  the  same 
prejudice.  The  soul,  to  a  greater  degree  than  the 
body,  requires  to  breathe  a  pure  atmosphere,  to 
pursue  a  wholesome  diet,  since  the  effects  of 
spiritual  infirmities  are  infinitely  graver  than  those 
attendant  on  bodily  ones.  Further,  the  physique  of 
the  soul  is  more  frail — the  slightest  thing  can  upset 
it,  and  with  lasting  consequences.  Yet,  many  there 
are  who  pass  the  greater  part  of  their  days,  and  their 
nights  too,  in  an  atmosphere  that  is  morally  stifling, 
heavy  with  the  miasma  of  scepticism  and  sensuality ! 
There,  where  the  doctrine  of  the  easy  life  is  most 
appreciated,  these  gather  in  largest  numbers  ;  and 
the  major  portion  of  their  spiritual  energy  becomes 


THE  LAWS  OF  HABIT  135 

dissipated  in  the  pursuit  of  empty  pleasure.  Not 
that  they  desire  evil  for  evil's  sake:  the  majority 
will  admit,  in  their  candid  moments,  that  this  mode 
of  existence  palls  grievously,  that  their  convictions 
belie  it,  that  their  hearts  are  chilled  by  it,  and  their 
spirit  stifled.  To  cast  off  these  social  constraints, 
to  emancipate  self  from  these  habits  of  inveterate 
sloth,  needs  real  efifort.  They  have  not  the  necessary 
courage.  If,  by  way  of  antidote,  they  would 
but  endeavour  to  nourish  intellect  and  heart  with 
the  healthy  food  of  clean  thoughts  and  purifying 
sentiments!  But  behold  them  at  their  task  !  They 
pursue,  interiorly,  the  enervating  and  random 
system  of  their  exterior  existence.  There  are  many 
who  do  not  work  at  all,  or  work,  half-heartedly, 
for  a  couple  of  months  prior  to  the  examination 
period.  As  a  compensation,  they  devour  all 
that  comes  their  way — all  the  current  rubbish 
of  fact  or  fiction.  When  they  should  satisfy 
their  heart's  hunger  by  allowing  themselves  only 
such  affections  as  are  lawful  and  ennobling, 
and  so  furthering  the  work  of  moral  regenera- 
tion, in  view  of  their  future  functions  of  husband 
and  father,  they  elect  rather  to  indulge  in  dreams, 
to  multiply  shallow  relations,  and  squander  in 
chance  encounters  the  provision  of  fine  and 
generous  emotions  fostered  in  early  life.  And 
thus,  because  it  costs  something  to  struggle  against 
nascent  passions,  to  hinder  ease,  to  observe  minute 
precautions — to  live,  in  a  word,  by  rule,  and  so 
nourish  the  intelligence  upon  truth,  and  the  heart 
upon  manly  sentiment. 
There  are  those,  I  am  aware,  who  postpone  until 


136       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

a  later  period,  their  edifying  conversion.  Then, 
under  the  pressure  of  circumstance,  and  in  view  of 
the  exigencies  of  life,  they  will  proceed  to  "  reform  " 
themselves,  as  they  describe  it.  They  will  reverse 
the  machine,  and  astonish  mankind  by  their  virtuous 
behaviour,  and  the  force  of  their  convictions.  What 
an  Utopian  scheme  is  this !  It  involves  the  destruc- 
tion of  body  and  soul  alike.  When  youth  has  been 
passed  in  undermining  self,  in  living  within  a 
pernicious  circle,  in  daily  intoxication  with  besotting 
draughts  of  pleasure;  when  it  has  disturbed  in 
every  possible  way  the  equilibrium  of  the  functions 
essential  to  life,  it  is  not  possible  to  reconstruct  self 
from  one  day  to  the  next,  nor  to  re-establish  the 
disturbed  equilibrium. 

II.  The  Gymnastics  of  the  Soul. 

It  is  advantageous,  if  one  would  foster  sound 
health,  to  pay  due  attention  to  bodily  hygiene. 
This,  however,  is  not  all  that  is  required ;  we  must, 
as  everyone  acknowledges,  add  thereto  muscular 
exercise.  But  what  kind  of  exercise  ?  Here,  opinion 
largely  differs.  Should  such  exercise  be  limited  to 
that  moderate  and  regular  use  of  the  muscles  which, 
in  rendering  them  pliant  and  vigorous,  facilitates 
the  working  of  the  organs  essential  to  life,  and 
maintains  the  health  in  a  state  of  perfect  balance — 
or,  should  recourse  be  had  to  violent  sports  which, 
immoderately  practised,  while  they  increase  the 
muscular  forces  tenfold,  do  so,  but  too  often,  to  the 
detriment  of  the  general  economy?  The  fact  is, 
at  the  present  time,  there  is  some  misapprehension 
in  regard  to  those'  opposed  elements — health  and 


THE  LAWS  OF  HABIT  137 

muscular  force.  Such  confusion  could,  I  imagine,  be 
easily  avoided  by  a  closer  contemplation  of  the 
problem  to  be  resolved,  which  amounts  simply  to 
this :  Has  bodily  health  an  independent  value ;  or, 
on  the  contrary,  merely  a  relative  value  derived 
uniquely  from  its  close  relation  to  the  health  of  the 
soul  ? 

Sports. — I  am  not,  for  my  part,  of  those  who 
regard  the  object  of  life  attained  so  long  as  one 
enjoys  good  health,  and  can  rival  the  professional 
athlete  in  muscular  force.  If  this  were  the  case, 
there  would,  of  course,  be  no  difficulty  in  the  kind 
of  exercise  to  be  adopted ;  the  simplest  would  be 
the  best,  provided  that  it  conduced  to  the  expansion 
of  the  breathing  capacities  of  the  lungs,  facilitated 
the  course  of  the  blood,  and  aided  digestion. 

The  primary  law  of  muscular  exercise  is,  what  I 
may  not  inaptly  style,  the  law  of  infinitesimals.  In 
virtue  of  this  law,  it  is  not  at  all  incumbent  upon  a 
young  man,  rightly  regardful  of  his  health,  to  indulge 
in  complicated  and  violent  forms  of  exercise,  save  on 
occasion  for  his  own  diversion.  Rather  should  he 
abide  by  simple  methods,  having  due  regard  to 
natural  laws,  and  which,  systematically  pursued,  are 
likely  to  be  conducive  to  health.  For,  to  the  law  of 
infinitesimals,  whereby  the  matter  of  bodily  exercise 
is  determined,  there  must  adhere  the  law  of  continuity 
which  regulates  their  form.  This  law  represents  the 
spirit  of  corporal  gymnastics.  If  one  relinquishes 
exercise,  from  weariness;  if  one  relaxes,  however 
slightly,  one's  efforts  before  attaining  the  desired  end, 
there  follows,  inevitably,  a  diminution  of  the  reserves 
of  energy  that  have  been  so  long  accumulating.  If,  on 


138       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

the  contrary,  one  perseveres,  and,  on  a  system,  these 
exercises,  far  from  causing  fatigue,  will,  in  the  long 
run,  become  a  habit,  a  need,  a  second  nature. 

It  is  with  intention  that  I  lay  stress  on  this 
question.  In  that  it  concerns  so  conspicuously  our 
physical  health,  it  is  of  the  greatest  import.  More- 
over, in  the  building-up  of  character,  simple,  but 
properly  regulated,  gymnastics  play  a  prominent 
part.  Some  have  described  gymnastics  as  "  the 
primary  school  for  the  will."  Gymnastics  for  the 
body  may  serve  as  model  for  gymnastics  for  the  soul, 
whose  health  is  subject,  with  due  reservation,  to  the 
same  laws  as  those  controlling  the  body. 

The  Law  of  Infinitesimals. — Every  psychologist  is 
in  agreement  as  to  the  necessity  for  spiritual  exer- 
cise. But  where  they  differ  is,  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  exercise  to  be  adopted.  I  remember  a  time 
when  spiritual  exercise  was  represented,  exclusively, 
by  the  daily  reading  of  a  chapter  on  piety  or  asceti- 
cism. It  seems  to  me,  however,  that  true  spiritual 
exercise  should  be  of  the  nature  of  action,  rather 
than  of  reading,  and  that,  further,  this  action  should 
be  unremitting. 

The  soul  has  faculties  somewhat  as  the  body  has 
members.  If,  then,  moral  habits  are  to  the  spiritual 
faculties  what  muscles  are  to  the  body's  members, 
it  is  imperative  that  these  be  strengthened.  Their 
development  will  assist  the  soul  in  those  moral 
functions  of  respiration  and  nutrition,  previously 
alluded  to.  Assuredly,  if  a  young  man  be  in  the 
grip  of  sound,  healthy  habits,  he  will,  without 
difficulty,  rise  superior  to  demoralising  environ- 
ment, and  will  hunger,  instinctively,  after  a  moral 


THE  LAWS  OF  HABIT  139 

sustenance  that  is  capable  of  fortifying  him.  But 
how  develop  such  habits  ?  How,  indeed,  save  by 
the  persistent  daily  observance  of  quite  simple, 
though  entirely  rigid  laws,  and,  pre-eminently,  of 
the  law  of  infinitesimals. 

In  the  moral  realm,  the  student  will  not  have  to 
seek  far ;  his  daily  task  is  clearly  defined ;  his  duty 
as  a  Catholic  plainly  mapped  out,  day  by  day,  hour 
by  hour.  Given  the  inclination  to  acquire  good 
habits — or  what  is  termed  a  virtuous  disposition — 
and  there  is  nothing  easier  than  to  profit  by  and 
develop  this  inclination ;  or  suppose,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  he  be  prone  to  vice,  then  it  becomes  a 
question  merely  of  personal  initiative  and  common 
sense,  in  neutralising  any  such  propensities  and  sub- 
stituting for  them  worthier  ones. 

The  Law  of  Continuity. — Conceive  a  student  who 
is,  naturally,  predisposed  to  temperance.  It  will  be 
quite  simple  for  him,  on  this  hypothesis,  to  orientate 
all  such  tendencies  into  proximity  with  the  Christian 
ideal  and  so,  to  the  confirming  of  his  will,  which  in  its 
turn,  inspired  by  the  same  ideal,  will  impart  to  these 
natural  attributes  its  moral  impress,  and  transmute 
them  into  virtues.  Another,  may  be  sensually 
addicted,  whether  encouraged  by  antecedents  or 
accidental  circumstance.  How  should  he  be  dealt 
with  ?  Some  will  advocate,  in  like  instances,  strin- 
gent remedies,  and  go  so  far  as  to  suggest  the  cowl 
and  cloister.  Theoretically,  this  would  be  a  noble 
solution ;  it  is  not,  however,  always  practicable. 
There  are  remedies  as  efficacious,  although  less 
attractive — such  as  the  transforming  of  this  passion 
into  virtue,  and  converting  a  self-love  that  is  base 


140       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

into  a  self-love  that  is  worthy.     This  is  a  task  that 
has  to  be  unremittingly  pursued  ;  the  law  of  infini- 
tesimals calls  forth  the  law  of  continuity.    Not  by 
superhuman  struggles  at  once  wearing  and   dis- 
heartening, but  by  effort  sustained  and  undaunted — 
by  discerning,  moreover,  the  original  cause  of  our 
daily  backsliding.      Does    it  lie   in   our  reading? 
Then  must  we  cease  to  read,  or  read  less,  or  alter  its 
nature.     What  of  the  theatres  we  patronise  ?    Let 
us  wait  awhile  before  again  resorting  to  these,  and 
allow  our  moral  health  to  reassert  itself     Does  it 
concern  the  company  we  frequent  ?    Then  we  must 
be  bold  enough  to  seek  other  company.    Perhaps,  it 
is  but  a  question  of  temperament  ?    In  this  case,  we 
have  to  consult  our  physician  as  well  as  our  con- 
fessor.    But  let  this  be  held  ever  in  remembrance  : 
that  temperament  which  is  morally  diseased — like 
to  physical  temperament — cannot  be  changed  in  a 
day,  and  by  means  of  violent  reaction,  but  by  time 
alone,  and  action  indefinitely  renewed.     Whilst  we 
can  remove  the  immediate  causes  of  our  downfall, 
we  must,  as  well,  take  positive  steps  to  acquire  and 
develop  the  corresponding  virtues.     If  we  happen 
to  be  sensually  bent ;   if,  in  short,  we  are  apt  to 
cultivate  that  passionate  form  of  egoism  which  is 
sensuality,  there  must  be  awakened  in  us  the  idea 
of  a  superior  egoism,  a  worthier  self-love.     Around 
this  idea  there  may  be  congregated   the  motives 
most   likely  to   amplify   it,   from   that   of  personal 
interest,  ever  regardful  of  the  individual  future,  to 
that  selfless  one,  embodying  virtue,  human  dignity, 
devotion  to  humanity,  and  the  glory  of  God.     By 
fostering  these  higher  considerations,  the  passion  of 


THE  LAWS  OF  HABIT  141 

sensual  appetite  will  become  detached  from  the 
lower  motive  inspiring  its  gratification.  Little  by 
little,  spirit  will  overcome  matter,  while  not  ceasing 
to  love  self,  rather  with  increased  love  of  self, 
augmented  with  the  leaven  of  infinite  charity.  So 
can  will-power  be  enlarged  tenfold,  and,  quickened 
by  the  stimulus  lent  by  all  ardent  emotion,  it  can 
restore  in  moral  fibre  and  enduring  energy  whatever 
it  has  received  of  blind  and  transitory  force.  But 
what  of  the  perpetual  martyrdom  here  involved  ? 
In  truth,  in  this  individual  death,  this  continuous 
annihilation  of  self,  there  are  contained  the  precious 
germs  of  creation  or  individual  life.  In  virtue  of 
the  law  of  continuity  which  governs  the  growth  of 
moral  habit,  reiterated  action  brings  about  a  cor- 
responding diminution  of  effort.  Where  at  the 
outset  fatigue  was  most  evident,  there  remains  only 
felicity.  Repose  comes  of  action  itself  The  more 
we  act,  in  this  sense,  the  more  we  feel  the  need  of 
action  and  the  satisfaction  of  this  need,  as  we  per- 
sonally experience  it,  will  appear  to  us  the  last  word 
in  the  health  of  the  soul,  facilitating  its  expansion, 
as  the  bud  of  youth  expands  into  the  flower. 


CHAPTER  III 

CHARACTER  AND  MORAL  HABITS 

From  the  preceding  inquiry,  we  have  arrived  at  the 
defining  of  character  as — "  The  sum  of  moral  habits 
intelligently  grouped  around  the  axis  of  the  will." 
The  reader  can  confirm  the  accuracy  of  this  defini- 
tion, allowing  that  it  be  true,  on  the  one  side, 
that  a  man  of  "character"  is  recognisable  by  the 
unity  and  stability  of  his  moral  attitude,  and,  on  the 
other  side,  that,  indisputably — and  we  hope  to  prove 
this — moral  habits,  rightly  understood,  are  the 
truest  guarantee  of  the  unity  and  stability  of  this 
attitude.  What  habit  is,  in  the  constant  state,  so  in 
the  transient  state,  are  the  acts  that  have  contributed 
to  its  acquisition.  It  remains  to  be  ascertained  how 
moral  habits  can  be  grouped  to  assist  in  the  forma- 
tion of  character,  and  how  a  young  man  can  best 
preside  at  this  manoeuvre  on  his  own  account. 

I.  Moral  Equilibrium. 

Ostensibly,  countless  are  those  moral  habits 
favourable  to  the  formation  of  character.  This  is 
evident  from  a  glance  at  any  description  of  moral 
treatise,  and  the  particular  chapter  that  deals  with 
the  classification  of  the  virtues.  In  philosophical 
phraseology,  virtues  and  moral  habits  are  synony- 
mous.    Hence  comes  this  disturbing  and  pressing 

142 


CHARACTER  AND  MORAL  HABITS       143 

question :  Am  I  to  select  from  their  number  those 
most  appropriate  to  my  individual  needs,  to  my 
temperament,  and  mental  condition;  or,  am  I 
bound,  as  matter  of  conscience,  to  entertain  all? 
Theoretically,  it  is  not  permissible  to  make  a 
choice  of  moral  habits;  in  practice,  it  must  be 
admitted,  no  person  can,  conceivably,  lay  claim  to 
their  entire  number. 

The  Relations  of  the  Virtues. — In  moral  concerns,  it 
is  readily  understood  there  can  be  no  attempt  at 
selection.  The  man  of  "  character "  is  indeed,  in 
virtue  of  the  fact,  the  man  of  duty :  his  goal  is  to 
realise,  in  its  plenitude,  the  ideal  of  life  incumbent 
upon  his  free  energies.  Now,  human  duty  can  omit 
no  single  virtue  from  its  sphere  of  obligation.  Duty 
is  the  converging  point  around  which  the  virtues 
concentrate,  the  luminous  centre,  whence  they  are 
enkindled,  the  sun  whose  rays  they  are.  To  desire, 
of  set  purpose,  and  from  mere  personal  preference, 
to  extinguish  this  or  that  ray,  were  to  threaten  the 
sun  itself,  to  assail  the  centre.  No  one  has  the 
right  to  do  so.  Moreover,  experience  demonstrates 
the  folly  of  such  an  attempt.  The  youth  who 
resolves  to  be  strong,  without  at  the  same  time 
determining  to  be  temperate,  can  be  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other,  because,  viewed  practically,  the  one 
attribute  is  dependent  for  its  existence  on  the  other. 
Its  strength,  in  any  case,  will  have  but  the  semblance 
of  the  strength  that  is  a  virtue.  For,  supposing  that 
the  exercise  of  this  virtue  is  brought  into  conflict 
with  the  exigencies  of  temperance,  he,  by  reason  of 
his  conscious  intemperateness,  will  be  beset  by,  and 
the  prey  of,  his  weakness.    Theoretically  regarded, 


144       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

then,  we  cannot  favour  one  section  of  the  virtues  to 
the  exclusion  of  the  other.  And,  as  I  have  said,  it 
is,  nevertheless,  impossible  to  practise  them  all.  A 
beggar  is  not  able  to  bestow  alms ;  a  married  man 
cannot  be  a  celibate ;  a  man  incapable  of  learning  is 
not  able  to  study.  Whence  we  are  led  to  the  con- 
clusion that  there  do  exist  virtues,  or  moral  habits, 
the  acquisition  of  which  is  not  indispensable  to 
the  building-up  of  character.  What  is  indispensable 
is,  to  have  the  intention,  should  the  need  arise,  to 
concede  a  loyal  service  to  all. 

Are  there  not,  however,  a  number  of  virtues  in- 
cumbent upon  the  youth  who  would  develop  into 
the  man  of  character  ?  Doubtless,  seeing  that  we 
have,  in  common,  an  obligation  towards  ourselves, 
towards  our  brethren,  towards  God;  and  that, 
further,  the  fulfilment  of  this  obligation  is  subordin- 
ate to  the  systematic  practice  of  the  corresponding 
virtues. 

Prudence. — The  primary  duty  of  a  reasonable  man 
is  to  act  reasonably.  We  must  not  imagine  that,  if 
reason  be  once  awakened,  and  the  formulae  of 
conduct  learnt  by  heart,  this  depends  solely  on 
self.  In  the  laboratory  of  the  conscience,  the  moral 
reaction  of  the  intelligence  over  the  sluggish  will 
and  violent  passions  is  not  subservient  to  the  same 
laws  as  chemical  reaction.  It  is  not  controlled  by 
certain  set  formulae.  One  reacts,  morally,  on  one- 
self through  reflection  and  the  exercise  of  energy^ 
and  subject  to  the  accidents  of  personality,  time, 
environment,  and  education,  all  of  which  impart 
their  moral  colouring  to  our  free  acts.  Here,  again, 
we   are   in  the  grip  of  habit.     We  may   describe 


CHARACTER  AND  MORAL  HABITS      145 

as  we  please  this  habit  of  acting  in  accord- 
ance with  reason;  we  may  give  it  the  name  of 
Prudence,  as  do  the  Masters  of  Philosophy :  the  fact 
remains  that  its  formation  and  development  are 
controlled  by  the  two  laws  regulating  the  formation 
and  development  of  every  habit ;  I  mean  the  law  of 
infinitesimals  and  the  law  of  continuity.  The  man 
of  character,  then,  is,  before  all,  the  man  of  reason, 
who  utilises  prudence  as  a  lighthouse  with  its 
revolving  and  intermittent  lights,  whereby  the 
horizon  of  morality  becomes  illumined,  and  he  is  no 
longer  plunged,  bhnded  and  bewildered,  amidst  the 
gathering  mists  of  his  propensities.  By  the  light  of 
this  virtue,  all  others  are  revealed  to  him,  and, 
conspicuously,  those  capable  of  adjusting  the 
spontaneous  promptings  of  his  sensibility  to  the 
lasting  exigencies  of  the  human  ideal.  Plainly,  I 
refer  to  strength  and  temperance. 

By  specific  acts,  indefinitely  and  systematically 
repeated,  these  virtues  are  produced  and  nourished. 
Not  that  their  end  is  to  suppress  all  sensibility; 
on  the  contrary,  they  aim  rather  at  intensify- 
ing and  spiritualising  its  impulses,  and  so  further- 
ing the  growth  of  our  reasoning  facialties.  As  we 
are  not,  in  fact,  mere  mind,  so  neither  are  we  mere 
animal.  Our  life  has  to  exhibit  that  measure  of 
moral  balance  which,  whilst  conceding  to  reason  its 
•  absolute  rights,  at  the  same  time  recognises  the  pro- 
portionate share  that  should  be  allotted  to  appetite. 

The  establishment  of  this  moral  equilibrium 
between  the  constant  relations  of  the  body  and  the 
spirit,  is,  rightfully,  the  work  of  the  selfsame  virtues 
of  temperance  and  fortitude.    Temperance  hinders 

lO 


146       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

pure  sensibility  from  degenerating  into  sensuality; 
fortitude  converts  into  a  conscious  possession  of  self 
all  such  primary  emotions  of  the  sensible  order,  as,  by 
their  violence  and  spontaneity,  unconsciously  uproot 
and  dispossess  self.     So  we  see  clearly  that  he  who 
desires  to  attain  to  "  character  "  must  perforce  first 
lay  hold  of  these  virtues.     Yet  we  perceive  further 
that,  while  these  virtues  are  indispensable  to  the 
building-up  of  character,  they  are  not  all-sufficing. 
The  upright  man,  in  the  integral  development  of 
his   personality,  has  to   look  to  the  fulfilment  of 
obligations     other    than    those    having    personal 
reference ;    there    are    as    well    social    ones,    and 
especially    at    this    epoch    when    the    problem   of 
"  social  ethics "  tends  to  the  wholesale  absorption 
of  "individual  ethics."     So  that,  social  obligation 
entails  the  practice  of  the  necessary  social  virtues. 
And  hence,  of  recent  times,  we  find  a  new  vocabu- 
lary has  been  created  for  the  characterisation  of 
these  attributes,   and    we    hear    of   social  justice, 
solidarity,  altruism,  and  humanitarianism.    Here  the 
question  arises :  Have  we  sufficiently  endeavoured 
to  further  the  realities  that  correspond  to  these 
terms  ?    Alas !    I  fear  not.     There  are,  in  particular, 
only  too  many  Catholics  who,  in  these  days,  are 
victims  of  traditional  prejudices  in  regard  to  the 
moral  life  which,  in  their  conception,  touches  merely 
the  personal  conscience,  and  as  to  which  they  are 
accountable   to  their  God   alone.    So  they  guard 
against  all  risks  of  impure  contact  and  contemporary 
contagion,  by  retiring  from  the  conflict  and  living 
their    restricted    lives    apart,    in    tranquillity    and 
relative  probity,  regardless  of  the  social  progress 


CHARACTER  AND  MORAL  HABITS      147 

they  dread,  and  the  movements  of  civilisation  they 
condemn.  They  are  just,  in  a  degree,  towards  their 
fellows  in  order  to  escape  the  lash  of  justice;  they 
show  charity  uncharitably,  and  by  bestowing  alms, 
think  themselves  dispensed  from  the  bestowal  of  self, 
whole  and  entire,  body  and  soul,  upon  another. 
Let  us  not  imitate  these  whom  the  fear  of  life  has 
rendered  distraught,  and  who  in  nowise  merit  its 
gifts.  Life  is  not  won  without  travail,  neither  can 
it  be  developed  without  exertion.  It  is  not  possible 
to  pursue  life,  while  clinging  in  spirit  to  a  dead  past; 
one  lives,  doubly,  by  laying  up  lessons  from  the  past 
to  profit  increasingly  by  those  of  the  present. 
And  since,  to-day,  humanity  evinces  an  ever-growing 
thirst  after  justice ;  that,  from  every  portion  of  the 
globe,  men  draw  nigh  unto  one  another  with  the 
common  object  of  mutual  support,  marching  hand  in 
hand  towards  an  ideal,  increasingly  approximating 
to  the  human  ideal,  let  us  not  remain  detached  from 
such  a  movement ;  rather  it  befits  us,  urged  forward 
by  the  force  of  conviction  and  the  ardour  of  youth, 
to  march  in  advance  of  it.  And  we  have  to  realise 
that,  for  this  end,  it  is  not  enough  to  pronounce 
fiery  sentiments  and  organise  violent  meetings.  It 
is  chiefly  expedient  to  brace  our  will  by  the  culti- 
vation of  sound  habits  that  conduce  to  righteous- 
ness and  solidarity.  And,  again,  I  insist,  these 
habits  can  be  acquired  and  developed  by  daily  acts 
alone;  by  the  constant  reaction  on  our  inherent 
egoism,  of  an  ideal  desired  and  cherished ;  by  the 
sacrifice  of  that  detestable  ego,  ever  intervening 
between  desire  and  reality.  These  are  the  moral 
principles,  that  the  man  of  character  is  bound  to 


148       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

nurture  before  he  can  hope  to  merit  the  name.  If 
I  do  not  allude  to  the  Christian  virtues,  it  is  with 
design.  I  hope,  at  a  later  date,  to  devote  further 
pages  to  the  question  of  the  Christian  education  of 
character  and  the  virtues  that  appertain  to  it.  My 
sole  aim  here  is  to  solicit  the  attention  of  my  young 
brethren  to  the  close  relation  existing  between 
moral  habits — otherwise  styled  virtues — and  char- 
acter. The  man  of  character  is,  pre-eminently,  a 
virtuous  man — one  with  whom  the  realisation  of 
the  ideal  has  become  a  need,  a  second  nature, 
whether  in  regard  to  its  general  or  civil  application. 
That  he  actually  possesses  character  is  proved  by 
the  unity  and  stability  of  his  attitude  when  con- 
fronted by  duty.  Now,  without  this  combination 
of  moral  habits  just  noted,  such  unity  and  stability 
would  be  instantly  compromised.  Essentially, 
therefore,  these  contribute,  as  a  combination,  to 
form  character. 

II.  Unity  and  Stability  of  Moral  Character. 

Its  Unity. — Of  the  oneness  of  the  ideal  we  have 
incontestable  evidence.  Its  realisation  may,  of 
course,  be  susceptible  to  the  variations  caused  by 
varying  temperament,  surroundings,  time,  and  educa- 
tion. But,  in  essentials,  it  is  the  same  for  all.  It  is 
a  species  of  indivisible  whole  that  cannot  be  deliber- 
ately disintegrated  without  risk  of  injury  or  destruc- 
tion. How  is  it,  then,  that  so  many  men  and 
Christians,  whilst  keenly  wishful  to  actualise  this 
ideal  to  the  full,  fail,  lamentably,  therein,  and,  in  the 
place  of  a  life  of  unity,  whose  every  act  is  on  the 
side  of  duty,  offer  us  the  lamentable  spectacle  of  a 


CHARACTER  AND  MORAL  HABITS      149 

scattered  and  unbalanced  existence,  devoid  of  orien- 
tation, and  at  the  mercy  of  every  chance  gust  of 
scepticism  and  immorality  blown  in  its  direction. 
The  reason  is  not  hard  to  discern.  It  lies  in  the 
senseless  notion  that  to  be  aware  of  an  ideal  is  to 
realise  it  forthwith,  and  to  evince  good  intention  in 
its  regard  is,  at  once,  to  acquire  the  will-power 
necessary  for  its  attainment.  I  have  shown,  on  the 
contrary,  that  an  ideal,  however  elevated,  indeed,  by 
reason  of  this  attribute,  is  impotent,  in  itself,  to 
dominate  our  frail  volition  and  brute  instinct.  To 
develop  into  a  vital  principle,  it  has  to  be  not  only 
known,  but  desired — not  only  an  idea-light,  but  an 
idea-force.  Now,  in  final  analysis,  what  is  an  idea- 
force  if  not  virtue — that  is,  moral  habit,  created 
under  the  benign  influence  of  the  ideal,  desired  and 
cherished  ?  Who  tells  of  virtue,  tells  of  light  and 
force:  light,  in  that  virtue  is  acquired  under  the 
enlightenment  of  reason  alone ;  force,  in  that  it  is 
free  activity,  concentrated,  a  deposit  of  energy, 
stored  up  within  our  various  powers  by  voluntary 
acts,  indefinitely  repeated.  So  that,  when  a  man 
has  arrived  at  the  formation  of  such  moral  habits  as 
are  imposed  by  the  ideal,  in  its  closest  approxima- 
tion, his  moral  life  reflects,  enforcedly,  the  unity  of 
that  ideal.  He  is,  himself,  the  ideal  in  concrete 
form.  As  he  actualises  the  ideal,  so  it  becomes 
incarnate  in  him ;  he  becomes  a  man  of  balance  and 
character. 

Its  Stability. — Supremely,  this  unity  of  life,  this 
moral  equilibrium,  which  is  the  hall-mark  of  all  great 
characters,  is,  thanks  to  virtue,  otherwise  virtuous 
habit,  a  stable  and  immutable  element.    What  can 


150       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

there  be  more  stable  than  inherent  tendency  ?  And 
habit  is  its  created  equivalent — a  kind  of  second 
nature.  It  inspires  in  us  a  need  for  activity,  in  the 
direction  of  the  ideal  activity,  that  begets  it ;  and 
virtuous  habit,  thus  formed,  develops  speedily  into  a 
requisite.  Hence  the  stability  of  moral  conduct. 
And  so  we  are  led  to  the  conclusion  that  charac- 
ter, of  which  stability  and  unity  are  the  distinctive 
marks,  may  be  accurately  and  strictly  defined  as  : 
the  sum  of  moral  habits  intelligently  grouped  around 
the  axis  of  the  will. 


CHAPTER  IV 

INTELLECTUAL  HABITS  AND  CHARACTER 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  have  dealt  with  the 
question,  Do  we  aim  at  producing  character  ? 
Having  in  some  way  replied  to  this,  and  indicated 
the  path  along  which  we  have  to  travel  in  quest  of 
this  attribute,  I  will  now  pose  a  further  question, 
addressing  it  especially  to  students :  By  what 
natural  and  sure  methods  can  they  acquire  and 
develop  such  characteristics  as  befit  them  not  merely 
as  men,  but  as  Christians  ?  The  answer  is  plain : 
By  the  thorough  and  conscientious  performance  of 
their  present  duties,  by  serious  study  and  effort  in 
the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  by  maintaining  the  educa- 
tion of  their  will  abreast  with  the  education  of  their 
intelligence. 

I.  Ethics  and  Science. 

In  reality,  the  question  under  discussion  concerns 
the  much-debated  one  of  the  relations  existing 
between  science  and  morality.  Two  prejudices  are 
rife,  in  this  regard,  the  one  being  as  pernicious  as 
the  other.  The  first  is  reducible  to  this  barren 
formula  :  Multiply  knowledge,  and  you  at  the  same 
time  multiply  virtue  ;  make  instruction  obligatory ; 
thus  only  can  you  manufacture  the  scholar  and  the 
man.    The  other  prejudice,  whilst  equally  naive,  is 

151 


152       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

formulated  in  more  circumspect  fashion.  Its  ad- 
herents do  not  venture  so  far  as  to  say :  Suppress 
knowledge  that  virtue  may  flourish.  But  acting  on 
the  principle  (if  principle  it  amounts  to)  that  know- 
ledge inflates  (scientia  inflat)^  they  advocate  ignorance 
that  humility  may  thrive,  being  persuaded  that  this 
quality,  which  admittedly  belittles  man,  represents, 
nevertheless,  his  highest  virtue.  I  repeat,  these 
are  pernicious  notions  that  cannot  survive  the  light. 
To  construct  creatures  of  "  character,"  in  the  virile 
sense  of  the  term,  it  is  not  enough  to  enforce 
instruction,  neither  to  forbid  it.  One  finds  "  martyrs 
to  duty"  in  every  degree  of  the  social  scale, 
amongst  the  ignorant  and  amongst  the  cultured  It 
would  be  more  reasonable — more  human  therefore 
— to  discover  in  what  measure  and  under  what  con- 
ditions the  education  of  the  intelligence  can,  and  does, 
actually  contribute  to  the  education  of  the  will.  That 
it  does  contribute  considerably,  and  under  relatively 
simple  conditions,  is,  as  I  think,  undeniable. 

We  find,  in  truth,  frequently,  that  knowledge 
inflates,  but  this  property  is  not  peculiar  to  it  alone 
In  this  direction,  ignorance  (by  which  I  mean 
"  affected "  ignorance)  concedes  herein  nothing  to 
knowledge — indeed,  surpasses  it.  We  know,  from 
experience,  that  the  truly  learned  are  humble- 
minded,  and  the  completely  imbecile  vainglorious* 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  knowledge  inflates  only  those 
whose  mind  it  least  occupies,  thus  leaving  consider- 
able room  for  vanity.  God  Almighty  is  not  vain- 
glorious, in  that,  precisely.  He  is  all  knowledge. 
Further,  knowledge  and  humility  spring  from  the 
same   source.      Both   are   the  offspring  of  Truth. 


INTELLECTUAL  HABITS  153 

How,  then,  should  these  kindred  attributes  dwell  in 
mutual  disharmony  ?  Whereas,  affected  ignorance 
is  the  child  of  deception,  and  can  but  assume 
humility  as  a  mask.  Closely  investigated,  it  will  be 
seen  that,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  humility  of  the 
ignorant  consists  in  humiliating  the  learned.  It  is 
quite  easy  to  be  humble  where  there  exists  no 
excuse  for  pride ;  but  rightly  to  appraise  this 
humility,  it  has  to  be  identified  with  wounded  pride, 
or  what  is  vulgarly  styled  "  pique."  We  are  bound 
not  to  hearken  to  those  who  would  dissuade  us, 
under  such  fallacious  pretexts,  from  the  pursuit  of 
learning.  A  religion,  like  the  Catholic  religion, 
which  rests  wholly  on  truth,  need  take  no  alarm 
at  representations  ^of  the  like,  no  matter  whence 
they  emanate.  The  same  St.  Paul,  who  was  the 
first  to  warn  us  that  knowledge  "  puffeth  up,"*  has 
exhorted  us  likewise  to  have  a  reasonable  faith, 
{rationabile  obsequium)  based  on  truth. 

At  the  same  time,  we  must  not  push  this  reasoning 
method  too  far,  and,  with  some  optimists,  assert,  con- 
cerning moral  education,  that  the  will  is  sufficiently 
stimulated  by  the  adequate  training  of  the  intellect; 
that,  once  the  University  degree  is  conferred,  there 
forthwith  evolves,  as  it  were  by  enchantment,  the 
man  of  character.  Alasl  experience  proves  the 
contrary.  In  educational  matters,  a  diploma  ol 
efficiency  is  not  by  any  means  as  easily  won  as  in 
matters  scholastic.  In  the  work  of  self-mastery 
there  are  years  of  toil  demanded,  and  the  conscience 
calls  for  examination  on  many  more  occasions  than 
once  in  the  year. 

♦  I  Cor.  viii.  i  (Trans.). 


154       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

Here,  then,  yet  another  question  arises  for  us : 
In  what  measure,  and  under  what  conditions,  are 
intellectual  habits,  otherwise  called  knowledge, 
calculated  to  advance  the  integral  development  of  the 
personality  of  the  moral  man  ? 

Personal  Purification. — To  begin  with,  it  is  clear, 
that  the  intercourse  of  elevated  thoughts  safeguards 
us  from  the  low  company  of  enervating  suggestions. 
Such  time  as  we  devote  to  the  research  after  truth 
cannot  be  squandered  in  the  gratification  of  the 
animal  appetites.  This  is  one  important  advance 
upon  the  enemy.  If  man  is  not  purely  mind,  he  is, 
pre-eminently,  mind.  In  this  he  differs  from  the 
brute,  and  in  that  his  flesh  can  be  moulded  to  the 
exigencies  of  reason,  as  clay  can  be  moulded  by  the 
potter's  fingers.  From  this  standpoint,  alone,  know- 
ledge is  a  fertile  element  in  the  purification  of 
morals.  It  acts  as  a  drag  on  sensuality,  by  depriving 
it  of  the  time  and  opportunity  for  indulgence.  It  is 
quite  permissible  to  pursue  knowledge,  for  its  own 
sake,  but  we  can,  as  well,  utilise  it  for  the  reforming 
of  our  passions,  inasmuch  as  reformed  passion 
can,  by  reaction,  promote  the  highest  intellectual 
culture.  In  the  necessary  slavery  of  the  flesh,  we 
obtain  the  ransom  for  the  redemption  of  the 
spirit. 

Social  Purification. — The  moral  effects  of  know- 
ledge are  far-reaching.  Knowledge  is  not  only  an 
excellent  channel  for  the  uplifting  of  the  individual, 
it  furthers,  in  addition,  the  production  of  the  social 
virtues.  To  make  my  meaning  plain,  I  may  declare 
that  a  Catholic  student  should  not  study  for  personal 
reasons  or  advancement  alone,  but,  as  well,  in  view 


INTELLECTUAL  HABITS  155 

of  public  utility ;  he  should  cultivate  knowledge  for 
the  sake  of  others  as  well  as  for  his  own ;  he  should 
ever  bear  in  mind  that  to  be  dihgent  is  rightly  to 
interpret  the  obligations  of  justice  and  charity. 

And,  primarily,  it  is  an  obligation  of  justice.  In 
saying  this,  I  have  chiefly  in  mind  those  students 
whose  object  is  to  acquire  proficiency  in  law, 
science,  medicine,  and  so  forth,  in  view  of  a  future 
liberal  career.  Have  they  ever  given  a  thought  to 
the  responsibility  they  assume,  when,  instead  of 
studying,  they  waste  their  time  in  trivialities  that 
lead  to  nothing,  or  worse  than  nothing?  Have 
they  reflected  on  the  day  to  come,  when  their 
brethren  in  humanity  will,  in  the  grip  of  trouble, 
whether  physical  or  mental,  consult  them,  as 
arbiters,  in  some  measure,  of  their  destiny,  and 
that  then,  they  can  afford  such  counsel  and  service 
only,  in  proportion  to  the  intellectual  capital  they 
have  amassed  during  the  period  of  study  ?  There 
are,  1  am  convinced,  only  too  many  students  who 
utterly  fail  to  appreciate  this.  They  imagine,  in 
fact,  that  their  degrees  are  all-sufficing.  Yet,  an 
infirm  person  cannot  be  made  sound  by  a  mere 
flourish  of  parchment  qualifications  and  high- 
sounding  titles.  He  can  be  cured  by  that  one, 
alone,  whose  knowledge  is  on  a  level  with  the 
requirements  of  his  profession ;  and  to  meet  such 
requirements,  it  is  necessary  to  have  devoted  thereto 
long  years  of  patient  study.  Justice,  strictly  defined, 
imposes  this  obHgation.  It  is  one,  analogous  to  that 
of  the  father  of  a  family,  who  has  to  till  the  ground, 
to  sow  the  grain,  and  to  harrow,  if  he  would  pro- 
vide bread  for  his  little  ones  who  have  a  right  to 


156       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

expect  it  of  him.  What  would  be  thought  of  this 
father  v/ere  he,  in  winter-time,  to  fold  his  arms,  and 
wait  to  put  his  hand  to  the  plough  until  a  couple  of 
months  before  the  harvest,  and  then  marvel  that 
the  reaping  was  a  poor  one!  Would  the  regrets  of 
the  sluggard  absolve  him  for  his  negligence,  and  his 
repentance,  however  sincere,  preserve  his  wife  and 
children  from  hunger?  So  shall  it  be  with  those 
other  idlers  who  choose  pleasure  rather  than  study. 
They  can  never  be  abreast  of  their  vocation  as  men, 
neither  of  their  profession.  Conscientious  study 
fortifies  the  will  as  it  disciplines  the  mind.  The 
student  who  works,  normally,  develops,  simul- 
taneously, a  pair  of  virtues  :  an  intellectual  virtue, 
that  enables  him  to  store  up  a  provision  of  know- 
ledge, which  he  can  draw  upon  in  the  future,  and  a 
moral  virtue,  whereby  he  is  aided  to  fulfil  the 
obligations  that  may  be  entailed  upon  him  in  the 
course  of  his  career.  So  we  see  that  knowledge 
plays  an  effective  rOle  in  regard  to  conduct.  With- 
out it,  there  can  be  no  true  interpretation  of  social 
obligation,  and,  in  particular,  of  that  prime  virtue  of 
charity  embodied  therein. 

The  greater  number  of  Catholic  students  known 
to  me  seem,  in  these  days,  to  hold  much  commerce 
one  with  another,  and  I  rejoice  that  this  is  so.  The 
breath  of  unity  stirring  humanity,  to-day,  animates 
these  likewise.  Their  love  for  their  neighbour 
reacts  upon  themselves.  Catholics  above  all,  their 
dream  is  to  succour  those  of  their  brethren  as  have 
strayed  into  error  or  scepticism;  to  illumine  their 
darkened  spirit  with  the  sun  of  truth.  Some  there 
are  who,  filled  with  apostolic  fervour,  ask  no  better 


INTELLECTUAL  HABITS  157 

than  to  seek  out  the  humble  and  preach  unto  them 
good  tidings.  Theoretically,  who  can  desire  better, 
given  the  means  ?  And  the  means  are  within  reach. 
Let  them  in  virtue  of  their  love  for  humanity,  store 
up  the  precious  gifts  science  bestows.  Let  them 
drink  from  the  springs  of  knowledge  and  of  faith, 
but,  as  a  condition  of  their  mental  well-being,  they 
must  do  so,  deliberately.  Then,  arrived  at  man's 
estate,  they  can  convince  the  world  at  large,  and 
especially  the  ignorant  and  the  erring,  by  testify- 
ing in  their  own  person  to  the  harmony  existing 
between  science  and  belief.  So  can  they  lay  the 
sound  foundations  of  faith ;  and  when  these  poor 
wanderers  perceive  that  the  learned  and  skilled,  to 
whose  pronouncements  even  the  elect  give  ear,  are 
the  same  who  bend  their  knee  to  the  God,  they 
themselves  have  worshipped  in  their  youth,  that 
they  congregate  in  His  temples  and  kneel  side  by 
side  at  His  Holy  Table,  then  Truth  shall  prevail 
with  these,  also,  and  its  dominion  be  established. 
And,  after  God,  it  is  through  the  young  that  light 
will  have  attained  to  them — through  such,  at  least, 
who,  faithful  in  the  discharge  of  their  obligations 
as  Catholic  students,  prove  themselves  to  be  true 
apostles,  those  whom  the  multitude  and  the  indivi- 
dual are  impelled  to  follow,  those  who  are  apostles 
in  virtue  of  deed  and  example. 

Knowledge,  then,  as  we  have  come  to  perceive,  is 
a  reforming  element  above  all.  Through  its  forces 
the  violent  promptings  of  appetite  are  overcome, 
and  the  empire  of  justice  and  charity  established. 
But  to  be  in  possession  of  it,  we  must  know  how  to 
acquire  it.    The  method  of  its  pursuit  can  assist. 


158       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

equally  with  knowledge  itself,  in  the  education 
of  the  mind,  and  favour,  in  like  degree,  that  of  the 
will. 

II.  Work  and  Relaxation. 

The  majority  of  students  entertain  strange  illu- 
sions in  this  respect ;  many  have  not  the  least  notion 
how  to  study.  They  work  as  they  play,  by  fits  and 
starts,  and  without  any  kind  of  system.  They  pre- 
pare for  their  examinations,  as  they  prepare  for  a 
general  confession — that  is  to  say,  at  the  last 
possible  moment.  Then,  one  sees  them  poring, 
feverishly,  over  their  books,  just  as  a  nervous  and 
scrupulous  penitent  does  over  his  conscience.  And 
they  present  themselves  for  examination,  in  the  same 
confusion  of  mind,  as  they  do  for  their  confession. 
Their  nerves  are  strained,  their  memory  paralysed, 
and  incapable  of  action;  they  experience  immense 
difficulty  in  replying  to  plain  questions — whenever, 
in  short,  they  are  called  upon  to  dispense  in  small 
doses  what  has  been  compounded  in  an  instant. 
This  kind  of  "instantaneous "preparation  invariably 
proves  fatal,  in  that  no  time  has  been  conceded  for 
the  full  and  normal  assimilation  of  the  instruction 
received.  The  best  means  of  getting  creditably 
through  an  examination  consists  in  preparing  for  it 
by  daily  systematic  study,  not  in  view,  mainly,  of 
the  examination  itself,  but  in  view  of  the  acquire- 
ment of  knowledge.  The  intellectual  life,  like  the 
moral  life,  is  a  matter  of  habit,  its  development  being 
subject  to  the  law  of  infinitesimals  and  the  law  of 
continuity.  I  maintain  that  a  student  who  devotes 
two  or  three  hours  of  each  day,   throughout  the 


INTELLECTUAL  HABITS  159 

year,  to  serious  work,  will  not  be  called  upon  within 
the  last  three  months  prior  to  his  examinations, 
grievously  to  overtax  his  brain-power.  He  will  have 
had  leisure  to  digest  all  that  he  has  consumed  ;  and 
even  should  he,  at  the  last  moment,  put  on  steam, 
this  extra  effort  will  stimulate  rather  than  exhaust 
him.  For  there  is  real  advantage  in  traversing,  at 
express  speed,  a  path,  whose  difficulties  one  has 
surveyed,  at  leisure,  during  eight  or  ten  months. 

Studiousness. — And,  morally,  he  will  have  gained 
enormously.      The  virtue  of  studiousness,  which 
such  application  helps  to  foster,  is  acquired  just  as 
are  the  other  virtues.     Its  acquirement  entails  the 
constant  intervention  of  the  will,  that,  like  it,  feeds 
on,  and  is  strengthened  by,  its  own  acts.     How  is  it 
that  the  ordinary  student  so  rarely  works  at  stated 
hours,  and  for  any  fixed  period  of  time  ?    Solely, 
because  to  do  this  would  cost  him  somewhat ;  he 
would   have   to   wrestle  with  his  own  indolence, 
mortify  his  caprices  and  his  ease,  and  place  in  danger 
what  he  pompously  styles  his  "liberty."     Instead 
of  working  when  it  is  expedient,  he  works   when 
it  pleases  him  ;  and  it  pleases  him  only  when  other 
things  that  call  for  no  exertion  do  not  please  him 
more.     If  the  prospect  of  an  examination  drives  him 
to  study,  it  is  not  that  the  prospect  invites  him  on 
its  own  merits,  it  is  rather,  that  certain  consequences 
have  to  be  faced  in  the  event  of  failure  or  success. 
In  what  can  the  intellectual  and  moral  life  culminate, 
when,  mental  study  is  contemplated  in  this  light? 
They  culminate  in  nought. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  student  who  persists  man- 
fully in  his  daily  application  will  be  astonished  at 


160       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

the  gratifying  results.  At  the  start,  he  may  work 
but  a  few  minutes  each  day;  but  he  must  do  so, 
consistently,  at  a  fixed  hour;  thus  he  imposes  a 
certain  bent  upon  his  will,  and  this  is  what  is 
wanted;  he  has  to  be  perfectly  inflexible  on  this 
point;  he  must  not  change  the  hour  appointed 
under  any  kind  of  pretext.  When  he  has  thus 
acquired  the  habit  of  work — let  us  say,  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  each  morning — and  such  a  habit  is  easily 
formed — he  will,  little  by  little,  enlarge  the  period 
to  half  an  hour  daily,  and  so  on,  by  degrees,  until 
he  will  find  himself  capable  of  the  amount  of  work 
incumbent  upon  a  youth  of  his  age,  who  is  in  good 
health,  and  aspires  to  some  worthy  achievement  in 
the  future.  This  regime  of  study  is  the  proper  one 
for  the  average  mind,  and  the  only  one  calculated  to 
train  the  will-power,  adequately,  in  the  case  of  every 
student. 

Relaxation. — Much  the  same  may  be  said  in  regard 
to  the  relaxation  obligatory  on  all  serious  workers. 
The  art  of  relaxation  is  a  fine  art ;  it  is,  so  to  speak, 
the  reverse  side  of  the  art  of  work.  It  must  not  be 
confounded  with  sloth,  neither  with  idleness.  A 
sluggard  and  an  idler  both  abjure  study.  It  is,  on 
the  contrary,  that  he  may  study  the  more,  that  a 
student  has  to  relax  study  a  while.  Wise  relaxation 
should  be  organised  on  the  same  lines  as  study ;  I 
do  not,  of  course,  mean  on  such  rigorous  lines,  but 
with  equal  regularity.  The  best  method  is  to  vary 
the  nature  of  one's  work.  At  the  same  time,  of 
course,  other  distractions,  such  as  travel,  harmless 
entertainment,  the  cultivation  of  the  graceful  arts, 
and    so    forth,   are    all   perfectly  allowable.      All, 


INTELLECTUAL  HABn^S  161 

indeed,  that  may  contribute  to  the  vigour  of  our 
mental  powers,  to  the  freshness  of  the  imagination, 
and  is  not  injurious  to  the  senses  nor  the  will,  can  be 
indulged  in  without  fear.  Whenever  relaxation  of 
this  description  is  pursued,  it  represents,  in  itself, 
action,  that  is  parallel  in  its  moral  effects  with  work, 
which,  after  all,  is  only  another  form  of  relaxation. 

I  might  digress  further  on  this  topic,  but  will 
content  myself  with  recommending  its  earnest 
consideration  to  all  young  men.  If  they,  one  and 
all,  follow  on  the  lines  here  advocated,  I  can,  with 
conviction,  answer  for  their  present  success  as 
students,  and  their  future  as  men.  Apart  from  the 
fact  that  the  high  delights  of  mental  exercise,  and 
the  satisfaction  of  a  good  conscience,  are  valuable 
assets  at  the  moment,  they  are  bound — and  I  venture 
on  this  prediction  without  arrogating  to  myself  the 
functions  of  a  prophet — to  promote  qualities  that  will 
make  of  them,  in  the  days  to  come,  not  only  men  of 
principle,  but  Christians  of  character,  and  the  pride 
of  their  Church  and  country. 


II 


CHAPTER  V 

SUPERNATURAL  HABITS  AND  CHARACTER 

I.  The  Human  Ideal. 

Let  me  recall  the  terms  of  the  problem  set  for 
solution.  Our  intelligence,  under  the  dual  light 
shed  by  reason  and  faith,  builds  up  an  ideal  we  have 
to  realise:  the  ideal  of  the  upright  man.  By  its 
aid,  the  goal  is  clearly  indicated,  and  the  way  of 
approach  plainly  mapped  out  for  us.  But  its  place 
is  defined  within  these  limits.  Intelligence  is  the 
lighthouse  that  illumines  the  coast.  Its  luminous 
beams  are  the  precious  mainstay  of  our  course,  but 
the}'^  cannot  effect  our  safe  landing.  To  reach  the 
shore,  it  is  not  enough  that  its  outlines  are  clearly 
revealed,  there  is  strength  needed  to  convej-^  us 
thither.  We  have,  it  is  true,  every  kind  of  energy 
at  our  service,  but  it  requires  to  be  disciplined. 
And  this  is  the  will's  function ;  it,  and  it  alone,  can, 
when  enlightened  by  the  ideal,  carry  out  this  work. 
By  which  we  mean,  that  the  ideal,  in  that  it  has  to 
effectually  influence  conduct,  must  be  willed  and  not 
merely  perceived ;  that  from  the  idea-light  of  which  it 
is  the  essence,  there  must  issue  idea-force. 

Thus  entertained,  the  ideal,  willed  and  cherished, 
attracts  to  it  those  passionate  and  sentimental 
energies  requisite  for  its  maintenance.    Once  pene- 

162 


SUPERNATURAL  HABITS     .  163 

trated  by  these  instinctive  and  blind  forces,  the 
ideal  responds,  on  the  instant,  by  restoring  to  them 
their  equivalent  in  the  form  of  moral  and  enlightened 
principles.  So  with  time,  and  under  the  influence 
of  repeated  acts  of  volition,  there  are  formed  habits 
such  as,  by  their  intelligent  grouping  around  the 
axis  of  the  will,  constitute  moral  character. 

II.  The  Christian  Ideal. 

How  many  times  have  I  insisted  that  the  neces- 
sary preliminary  to  becoming  a  Christian  is  to  be 
an  upright  man !  It  is  not  my  purpose,  in  these  my 
final  remarks,  to  gainsay  this.  I  will  merely  amend 
this  assertion  by  adding,  further,  that  to  be  a 
Christian  of  character  it  is  needful  to  contribute, 
over  and  above  all  the  natural  virtues  that  become 
the  upright  man,  those  supernatural  ones  that 
express  the  superman ;  that  into  what  is  human  in 
our  actions  there  must  be  infused  the  element  of 
the  Divine.  Supernatural  virtues  are,  in  fact.  Divine 
virtues,  in  their  origin,  in  their  development,  in 
their  effects.  It  is  God  alone  who  bestows  them  in 
bestowing  upon  us  grace ;  He  alone  augments  them 
in  accordance  with  our  merits ;  and,  finally,  by  their 
co-operation  alone,  are  we  made  sons  of  God.  The 
supernatural  virtues,  whilst  divinely  inculcated,  are 
none  the  less  determined  in  their  manifestations  bj' 
the  acquirement  and  growth  of  the  corresponding 
natural  virtues.  As  an  illustration,  let  us  picture 
two  basilicas,  one  superposed  on  the  other,  the  roof 
of  the  first  serving  as  a  base  for  the  second ;  whereas 
the  first  has  its  foundations  in  the  lowly  earth,  the 
spire  of  the  other  soars  to  the  lofty  heavens.    None 


164       THE  EDUCATION  OF  CHARACTER 

the  less,  it  is  a  certain  fact,  that  the  beauty  of  the 
second  basilica  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  solidity  of  the 
first;  remove  this,  and  you,  at  once,  shatter  the 
other.  So  is  it  with  supernatural  virtues  in  relation 
to  the  natural  ones.  These  Divine  virtues  un- 
deniably possess  marvellous  forces ;  but  for  their 
full  effectiveness  they  depend  upon  the  stout 
buttress  of  the  natural  virtues.  Once  again,  then,  I 
return  to  my  earliest  formula :  Do  we  desire  to  be 
Christians  of  character?  Then,  let  us  begin  by 
being  upright  men. 


Prtnttd  in  England 


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